^  — — 


Da 

No. 

fr 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


GIFT  OF 


California  State  Library 

takei 

shall 

son  ii 

brary 

benel 

and  b 

of  an  -  ^^^^-OT-CITIB- 

State,-...  niu  jjii  ui(JTn7"aTTowance  or  salary,  he  shall  be 

satisfied  that  such  member  or  officer  has  returned  all 

books  taken  out  of  the  Library  by  him,  and  has  settled 

all  accounts  for  injuring  such  books  or  otherwise. 

SKC.  15.  Books  may  be  taken  from  the  Library  by  the 
members  of  the  Legislature  and  its  officers  during  the 
session  of  the  same,  and  at  any  time  by  the  Governor  and 
the  officers  of  the  Executive  Department  of  this  State, 
who  are  required  to  keep  their  offices  at  the  seat  of 
goverment,  the  Justices  of  the  Supreme  Court,  the  At 
torney-General  and  the  Trustees  of  the  Library 


T  E  K  E  L 


CORA     GLENCOE. 


1  MENE,  MENE,  TEKEL,  UPHARSIN.    • 
This  is  the  interpretation  of  theOJiIng." — DANIEL. 

* 


BY 

tf  R  A  G  A  N  Z  A. 

,  £/   ^ ,    XP  '•>^H 

*^  // 


PHILADELPHIA: 
J     B.    LIPPINCOTT   &   CO. 

1870. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  j'ear  1870,  by 

J.   B.   LIPPINCOTT   &   CO., 
In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


edicaitd 


TO 


MY    COUNTKYWOMEN. 


932659 


PEOLOGUE. 


EL  PKINCIPE  DE  LAS  TINIEBLAS 

Y 

LA  LUNA. 

AT  once  there  came  a  rush  of  gorgeous  fire 
Out  from  the  far  and  secret  heights  of  heaven, 
And  lo!  a  thing  of  Shadow  swept  beneath, 
And  the  Realms  quaked  and  shuddered. 

Thus  it  was. 

Luna — unblemished  Virgin  of  the  Skies, 
Celestial  Watcher  with  the  Silver  Brow — 
Serenely  smiled  down  on  the  Sons  of  Men, 
Wooing  with  matchless  purity  of  light 
Their  wayward  souls  upon  the  way  to  Heaven. 
The  Angel  of  the  Bottomless  Abyss 
Frowned  at  the  "Bauble"  which  did  draw  men's  eyes. 
"For  they  do  stare  at  It — and  dream  of  HIM, 
And  Hell  thus  loses  prey.     I'll  go  me  forth 
And  blot  out  from  the  view  of  mortal  sight 
This  comely  magnet  of  the  souls  of  men." 
More  silent  than  a  vapor,  forth  he  went; 
Deadly  and  viewless  crept  he  up  the  skies  ; 
And  there  he  balanced  on  a  sable  wing, 
Within  the  noiseless  tremor  of  whose  plumes 
Were  garnered  up  the  ashes  of  Corruption : 
His  talon  hands  were  reeking  with  Pollution, 
And  on  his  breath  were  blasts  of  utter  Blemish. 

1*  (v) 


vi  PROLOGUE. 

"  With  ashes  will  I  mar  this  radiant  rim ; 
I'll  dash  with  slime  of  Night  this  zone  of  pearl ; 
With  fiery  blasts  of  Blemish  will  I  parch 
This  face  which  men  are  prone  to  wonder  at, 
Then  sigh — and  dream — and  die,  and  go  Beyond, 
Where  I,  with  all  my  magic,  ne'er  can  reach: 
I'll  blacken  it — that  there  shall  be  no  sign." 
He  hovered,  putting  forth  his  hand,  when,  lo! — 
Ithuriel's  gorgeous  spear  I    Swift  as  the  bolt 
Which  scintillates  from  East  to  West  afar, 
The  baffled  Spoiler  flashed  and  cleft  the  Skies, 
And  down  into  the  Bottomless  Abyss 
He  sped  him  deep  away — away — away  I 
Cowering  beneath  the  Eye  which  never  sleeps. 


EL  ESTUPKADOK 

Y 

LA  VICTIMA. 

Our  Virgins  are  as  Luna  fair, 

And  with  our  stainless  Women  are 

Chief  cause  of  what  is  good  in  Men. 

The  Jungle  Demon  haunts  the  glen, 

And  springs  upon  his  helpless  prey, 

And  rends  her  purity  away. 

But,  ah  I  it  is  a  shame  to  tell, 

There  is  no  swift  Ithuriel, 

Equipp'd  with  Law  and  armed  with  lance, 

Before  whose  ever-watchful  glance 

The  demons  of  Intent  shall  fly — 

And  demons  of  the  Deed  shall  die. 


TEKEL, 


OB 


OOEA     GLENCOE. 


CHAPTER    I. 

THOUGH  our  scenes  are  confined  almost  exclusively  to 
New  York  and  Maryland,  this  brief  opening  chapter  ne 
cessarily  carries  the  reader,  for  a  few  moments  only,  to  a 
portion  of  the  distant  Southwest  where  the  savage,  that 
painted  scourge  of  the  frontier,  once  held  dominion. 

Words  and  music,  sentiment  and  harmony,  have  touch- 
ingly  expressed  the  ever-present  experience  of  the  human 
breast  that  Home  is  the  dearest  spot  on  earth.  Savages 
are  no  more  strangers  to  this  experience  than  we  who  read 
and  write  and  build  cities ;  and  the  implacable  red  Indian 
who  drinks  the  blood  of  bis  enemies  and  tomahawks  the 
children  of  the  paler  faces,  droops  his  feathered  head  when, 
from  far  and  biting  exile,  he  pictures  in  his  practical  and 
poetical  mind  the  graves  of  his  ancestors,  and  the  woods 
and  waters  of  his  childhood,  from  which  he  has  been 
hurled  away  by  the  thundering  car  of  Civilization.  It  is 
this  redeeming  trait,  this  very  softening  of  his  barbaric 
heart,  which,  upon  its  revulsion,  sends  his  dread  slogan  on 
the  wind  and  urges  him  to  deeds  of  ruthless  and  reeking 
atrocity. 

Those  warlike,  savages,  who  had  inhabited  from  un 
known  time  the  country  embracing  the  upper  tributaries  of 
the  Brazos  River,  were,  years  ago,  driven  from  their  do 
main  by  the  ceaseless  and  deadly  warfare  of  the  once  for 
midable  Texas  Rangers,  and  compelled  to  seek  refuge 
among  the  wastes  and  sparse  waters  toward  the  district 
of  El  Paso. 

CO 


8  TEKEL, 

• 

But  at  intervals  they  girded  themselves  for  vengeance 
and  rapine,  and,  coming  down  like  swift  and  noiseless 
foxes,  would  suddenly  burst  upon  the  unaware  settle 
ments,  scourging  the  land,  and  chilling  the  hearts  of  the 
Lone  Star  people  with  their  matchless  deeds  of  blood. 

Upon  the  fountains  of  the  Brazos,  toward  the  Llanos 
Estacados,  they  would  pitch  their  lodges  and  divide  into 
bands.  Each  band  would  seek  a  tributary  of  that  river, 
and  ravage  it  to  its  confluence,  until  both  river  and  sav 
ages  were  gathered  into  a  single  stream  of  paramount 
strength  and  volume.  With  their  booty  and  scalp-lock 
trophies — and  among  the  latter  might  often  have  been 
found  the  long  hair  of  woman,  and  the  short,  soft  down 
of  the  suckling — they  would  retreat  as  they  had  come, 
dividing  with  the  tributaries  and  baffling  pursuit. 

It  was  just  after  an  extraordinarily  daring  and  destruc 
tive  inroad  of  this  character,  during  which  the  whizzing 
arrows  stuck  within  the  outskirts  of  Waco  Village,  that 
the  citizens  of  a  wide  scope  of  country  adjacent  to  the 
Brazos  hastily  organized  and  sternly  determined  to  follow 
the  trail  of  their  foes  as  long  as  there  was  a  moccasin 
upon  it.  Like  the  savages,  they  also  would  divide  into 
bands,  and  oppose  courage  to  numbers  and  energy  to 
craft. 

With  one  of  these  citizen  bands,  during  its  quick  cam 
paign,  we  propose  to  go  as  a  spectator.  The  company 
counted  some  thirty  mounted  men,  bristling  with  weapons, 
and  led  by  Ross  of  Waco  Village, — probably  the  most 
effective  Indian  exterminator  in  the  Brazos  country. 
Riding  immediately  in  the  rear  of  Ross  was  his  son,  a 
daring  boy,  who  had  already  won  the  spurs  of  a  Ranger, 
which,  at  that  day,  was  no  degenerate  honor.  By  the  side 
of  the  elder  Ross  went  a  gentleman  whose  face  was  of 
exceeding  comeliness  and  intelligent  resoluteness,  and 
whose  general  appearance  was  aristocratic  and  distin 
guished.  This  was  Colonel  Guy  Rapid,  a  wealthy  planter 
and  herder,  and  originally  from  Maryland.  The  comrade 
of  the  junior  Ross  was  the  beau  chevalier  of  the  cavalcade, 
a  blithe  and  beautiful  boy  who  sat  his  fiery  horse  like  a 
young  Mameluke.  Almost  too  bonny  to  be  a  boy,  he  was 
much  too  manlike  ever  to  be  mistaken  for  a  girl  in  male 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  9 

attire.  His  complexion  was  a  delicate  pink,  and  as  fair  as 
might  have  been  his  sister's.  His  eyes  were  violet,  and 
pure  as  the  blue  ether  of  a  summer  sky.  His  countenance 
was  cloudless,  and  his  name  should  have  been  "Joyful." 
In  addition  to  the  arms  which  he  carried,  a  lasso  hung  in 
coils  from  a  ring-hook  of  his  saddle,  for  the  boy  was  of  the 
prairies.  In  skillful  hands  the  lasso  is  a  dangerous  ser 
pent;  but  the  way  now  led  through  an  impracticable  for 
est,  and  he  carried  it  from  habit  merely.  The  youth  was 
a  gentle  fellow,  irenic  as  an  affectionate  girl,  except  when 
on  a  war-path,  when  he  was  the  very  chief  of  inveterates 
and  as  swift  as  fire.  He  was  mounted  upon  a  pale,  proud 
stallion,  with  black  mane  and  black  feet,  and  the  trained 
choice  of  the  prairies.  Adonis,  hunting  the  boar,  was  not 
better  mounted ;  nor  did  he,  when  disdaining  Venus,  look 
more  charmingly  fresh,  nor  yet  half  so  manly.  The  boy 
was  the  only  son  of  Colonel  Rapid,  and  his  life  had  ever 
been  as  that  of  the  bird  which  goeth  upon  the  wind  where 
it  listeth.  There  is  a  distinct  class  of  horse-killing  eques 
trians  who  might  well  be  dubbed  the  Whoop-and-yell 
Cavaliers,  who,  when  they  ride, — and  when  do  they  not  ? 
— ride  all  over  their  horses:  at  one  moment  being  up  to 
their  ears  in  the  saddle,  at  another  down  to  their  boots  out 
of  it.  They  are  to  be  seen  almost  everywhere, — but  in 
what  is  known  as  Western  Texas  they  abound;  and, 
although  they  may  be  able,  at  full  speed,  to  pick  a  mouse 
from  the  sward,  or  to  look  back  at  you  from  between  their 
horses'  hind  legs,  they  are  scarcely  more  graceful  or  lovely 
in  their  equestrianism  than  would  be  a  monkey  riding  a 
rolling  barrel  under  compulsion  and  over  rough  ground. 
Young  Rapid  was  a  horseman,  but  not  of  the  Whoop-and- 
yell  class.  He  too  cculd  pick  mice  from  the  ground,  and  ac 
complish  the  feat  while  rushing  upon  a  full-sized  horse 
instead  of  a  little  mouse  of  a  pony ;  for,  notwithstanding 
that  half  his  years  had  been  spent  at  college  in  the  East 
and  South,  he  was  the  champion  athlete,  lazador,  and 
sportsman  in  all  the  wide  range  about  his  Texas  home. 
His  superiority  was  due  to  a  form  of  the  finest  mould,  an 
unerring  eye,  and  a  steady  nerve,  as  well  as  to  his  love  of 
Western  and  manly  sports.  Young  as  he  was,  and  scarcely 
grown,  he  had  earned  from  an  exacting  Eastern  institution 


10  TEKEL, 

of  learning  his  diploma  as  a  general  graduate  ;  for,  in  re 
gard  to  his  mental  culture,  his  father  had  made  no  petted 
darling  of  him.  Out  upon  the  prairies  Colonel  Rapid  had 
permitted  his  boy  to  become  an  untiring  physical  athlete  ; 
in  college  he  had  stimulated  him  to  become  a  mental 
athlete  ;  in  morals  the  boy  had  before  him  the  example  of 
his  father;  in  religion  the  father  did  not  attempt  to  warp 
his  son's  mind  this  way  or  that,  but  handed  him  the 
Bible  with  the  exhortation,  "My  son,  this  is  the  way; 
walk  you  in  it." 

Briskly  the  Rangers  made  their  way  up  the  Brazos, 
until,  on  the  third  day,  they  were  brought  to  bay  by  sud 
denly  finding  themselves  in  the  midst  of  an  ambush,  from 
which  the  feathered  arrows  came  in  troops  like  passing 
birds.  Ross  at  once  knew  that  he  was  outnumbered,  and 
by  desperate  odds,  divining  that  the  band  upon  whose  trail 
he  had  been  following  had  been  joined  by  other  bands  of 
the  tribe.  The  savages,  yelling  and  screeching  like  devils, 
rushed  in  from  every  side.  The  Rangers  delivered  their 
rifle-balls  with  mortal  efficacy,  and  succeeded  in  gaining 
time  to  dismount  and  concert  hasty  measures  of  defense. 
Close  quarters  seemed  to  be  their  only  and  forlorn  hope, 
and  into  close  quarters  they  accordingly  rushed.  Colonel 
Rapid  was  almost  immediately  pierced  through  by  a 
barbed  arrow,  and  over  his  fallen  body  and  coveted  scalp 
the  battle  was  made.  Young  Rapid  stood  over  his  father, 
emptying  from  either  hand  the  contents  of  his  deadly  pis 
tols.  Ross,  a  tall  and  powerful  man,  with  giant  strength 
beat  down  the  thickening  savages,  and  young  Ross,  stand 
ing  back  to  back  with  his  father,  dropped  an  Indian  at 
every  shot.  The  Rangers  fought  with  a  stern  and  silent 
energy  which  eloquently  spoke  their  consciousness  that 
the  contest  promised  to  go  utterly  against  them.  The 
savages  were  gradually  closing  in  and  preparing  for  a 
sweeping  butchery.  Already  their  eyes  were  glancing 
toward  the  horses  of  the  pale  faces,  snl  here  and  there  a 
warrior  was  being  spared  to  secure  the  valuable  booty. 
Every  pistol  was  empty  and  every  gun.  The  knife  and 
the  clubbed  rifle  now  became  the  sole  reliance.  The 
Rangers  looked  desperately  into  each  other's  faces,  as  if  to 
ask,  "What  shall  we  do?" 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  11 

"  Alamo  !"  shouted  young  Rapid  in  a  voice  as  tameless 
as  the  challenge-cry  of  a  war-eagle. 

The  crafty  Indians  drew  back  and  began  to  manipulate 
their  bows,  and  in  a  few  moments  every  bow-thong  was 
taut  and  ready  to  launch  its  feathered  herald.  At  this 
crisis  a  young  savage,  fleet  as  the  antelope,  and  with  a  pro 
longed  cry  as  shrill  as  the  shriek  of  panic,  fled  past  the 
scene,  and  the  red  warriors  melted  away  like  a  dissolving 
view. 

"Tree!"  shouted  Ross  to  his  men — "our  friends  are 
coming." 

The  Indian  arrows  began  to  cut  from  ambush  through 
the  air.  The  Rangers  "  treed,"  and  reloaded  their  fire 
arms  ;  after  which  a  stillness  supervened  like  that  which 
might  have  reigned  in  the  depths  of  an  untrodden  wold. 
During  this  portentous  calm  the  dusky  savages,  like  noise 
less  serpents,  glided  here  and  there,  collecting  themselves 
in  a  more  compact  body.  Presently,  from  beyond  the 
savages,  the  sound  of  battle  came.  First  a  rifle  volley, — 
then  pistolade  after  pistolade,  until  the  forest  rang  with 
mingled  shouts,  and  shrieks,  and  clangor  of  furious  onset. 
Ross  sprang  forward  with  his  men,  and  the  Indian  braves, 
now  themselves  hemmed  in  by  a  contracting  girdle  of  fire, 
bit  the  dust  and  died, — but  few  escaping. 

Among  the  slain  whites  was  Colonel  Rapid.  Probably 
no  other  man  there  could  have  been  spared  so  ill  as  he"; 
and  as  Ross  looked  down  upon  the  waxen  face  of  this  dead 
gentleman,  who  had  rallied  from  many  a  safe  league  to 
defend  the  border,  between  his  gritting  teeth  he  cursed 
every  Indian  upon  the  soil  of  America.  Those  who  have 
sperit  their  lives  in  the  Atlantic  and  interior  States  have  no 
conception  of  the  inveterate,  sleepless  animosity  which  the 
frontiersman  cherishes  for  the  unmanageable,  treacherous, 
and  bloody  Indian.  Periodically  the  pioneer  is  called  to 
look  upon  the  savage's  surpassing  work, — to  shudder  or 
weep  over  the  gory  ruins  of  some  one  dearer  than  another  ; 
until  he  learns  to  lust  and  yearn  for  the  power  of  hosts, 
that  by  one  merciless  and  universal  stroke  he  might  hurl 
them  one  and  all,  a  howling,  hell-gotten  heap,  into  the 
bottom  of  the  Pacific  Ocean,  or  grind  them  to  impalpable 
atoms. 


12  TEKEL, 

The  results  of  the  fight  being  ascertained,  and  as  well  as 
possible  provided  for,  the  sanguinary  ardor  provoked  by 
this  grappling,  scalping,  feudal  combat,  began  to  cool. 
Ross  turned  to  young  Rapid  and  said, — 

"  Cassel,  your  father's  body  I  will  take  to  "Waco,  where 
a  coffin  can  be  provided." 

"  Then,"  said  the  youth,  "  I  will  go  home  by  the  nearest 
route,  and  meet  you  at  Waco  with  a  vehicle  to  carry  him 
to  Ranche  Rapid." 

"Very  good.  Our  other  dead  we  will  bury  here,  and 
mark  their  graves,  that  their  friends  may  recover  them." 

Young  Rapid  mounted  his  horse  and  disappeared  in  the 
thick  forest.  He  had  many  leagues  to  ride  before  he  should 
rest.  He  headed  his  horse  for  the  prairies,  regardless  of 
trail  or  by-path,  rode  all  night,  and  at  dawn  of  the  next 
day  emerged  from  the  forest.  Before  him  was  a  wide 
wilderness  of  waving  plain,  bounded  only  by  the  horizon. 
Over  the  grassy  expanse,  through  herds  of  half- wild  cattle, 
startling  here  and  there  a  deer,  a  coyote,  or  a  jack-rabbit, 
the  young  Ranger  took  his  way,  trusting  to  his  own  sense 
of  locality  and  direction,  and  to  the  instinct  of  his  horse, 
for  guidance  home.  At  length  he  came  upon  familiar 
ground,  where  his  father's  branded  herds  were  grazing, 
and  where,  far  away  in  the  unbroken,  smoky  distance, 
he  could  see  the  clump  of  trees  in  which  bis  home  was 
nestled.  After  a  free  gallop,  during  which  the  wind 
whistled  through  his  hair,  he  approached  the  front  gate  of 
his  dwelling.  The  trumpet  neigh  of  the  pale  stallion 
rallied  a  number  of  negro  servants  to  the  young  master's 
service.  One  of  the  negroes  silently  took  charge  of  the 
horse  and  led  him  away.  Those  who  met  their  young 
master  had  no  customary  welcome  for  him,  but  looked  as 
though  they  were  under  sentence  of  death.  The  youth 
immediately  observed  that  there  was  a  strange  and  des 
perate  gloom  upon  their  faces.  He  knew  that  they  could 
not  have  heard  of  Colonel  Rapid's  death,  for  the  first  pos 
sible  messenger  from  the  scene  in  the  forest  was  himself. 
What,  then,  could  be  the  cause  of  their  hushed  and  dejected 
looks  ? 

"  Aunt  Flora,"  he  asked  of  an  old  family  servant,  "  what 
is  the  matter  here  ?" 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  13 

She  only  shook  her  head  and  pointed  to  the  house  as  one 
pointing  to  a  field  of  horrors  and  of  doom ;  and  simulta 
neously  a  cry  broke  out  from  the  gathered  negroes  which 
struck  terror  to  the  soul  of  young  Rapid,  for  he  knew  that 
something  terrible  beyond  the  terrible  had  happened  at 
Ranche  Rapid.  Few  of  our  Northern  readers  have  ever 
heard  the  wild  heart-harrowing  wail — the  almost  unearthly 
requiem — of  a  Southern  black  clan  of  slaves  over  the  doom 
of  some  worshiped  pale  face — some  magnanimous  one  whom 
they  loved  or  venerated — upon  whose  life  depended,  per 
haps,  the  future  integrity  of  their  clan  and  families — and 
whose  death  might  scatter  them  ruthlessly  abroad.  Young 
Rapid  hastened  to  the  bouse  and  entered  it  with  dread  at 
his  heart.  He  traversed  one  room  and  opened  the  door  of 
another.  Great  God  !  What  was  it  that  overrushed  and 
pillaged  through  him  like  a  mingled  icy  and  fiery  flame,  as 
he  looked  upon  the  contents  of  that  room  ?  Imagine  that 
alone  you  are  entering  a  place  where  rests  the  dead  body 
of  your  dearest  loved.  That  when  you  come  to  look  upon 
the  corpse,  you  see,  sitting  thereon,  the  spirit  of  the  dead, 
in  well-known  form  and  feature.  With  the  courage  of 
Hamlet  you  nerve  yourself  to  approach.  What  is  that 
boundless  consciousness  which  overcomes  you,  multiplying 
your  fear,  and  grief,  and  ago.ny,  and  horror,  should  you,  by 
daring,  find  that  the  very  spirit  which  sits  upon  the  corpse 
is  dead  ? 

If,  from  the  time  of  the  Narragansetts  to  that  of  Red 
Cloud,  the  gore  of  every  victim  of  Indian  butchery  had 
flowed  in  a  crimson  flood  at  the  feet  of  young  Rapid,  bear 
ing  upon  its  tragic  billows  the  upturned,  appealing  faces  of 
the  murdered,  he  could  have  smiled  upon  it  all  in  com 
parison  with  what  he  now  encountered.  But  over  this 
surpassing  spectacle  we  must  suffer  a  temporary  veil  to 
hang ;  a  pall,  as  black  as  impenetrable  midnight.  Vain 
would  be  the  effort  to  tell  what  that  dauntless,  true,  and 
tender-hearted  brother  felt,  as  his  breast  was  plowed  up 
and  riven  by  the  fell  testimony  before  his  eyes.  Go  up 
into  the  mountain  and  f*luck  an  untrammeled  pen  from  the 
wild  plumage  of  the  eagle,  and  dive  down  into  the  bottom 
of  your  heart  for  thoughts  and  images,  and  you  will  never 
reach  from  height  or  depth  wherewith  adequately  to  tell 

2 


14  TEKEL, 

of  that  too  terrible  and  plaintive  thing  which  rested  in  this 
Western  home.  There  it  lay — a  ruin — a  WRONG,  unfathom 
able  in  its  depths,  boundless  in  its  degree,  more  bleak  and 
blighting  than  Arctic  winter,  and  foul  as  the  strategy  of 
hissing  hell.  Upon  this  ruin, — this  inestimable  ivrong, 
our  narrative  is  founded,  with  the  humble  and  sincere 
hope  that  it  may  prove  an  outcry,  reaching,  by  reason  of 
its  simple,  plaintive  truth,  into  the  secret  chambers  of  the 
soul  of  every  manly  reader,  and  echoing  thence  throughout 
the  dominions  of  men, — for  there  are  laws  more  brittle  to 
be  broken  than  icicles. 


CHAPTER  II. 

A  LETTER,  dated  at  Ranche  Rapid,  directed  to  Rev.  St. 
John  Hope,  Creswood  Post-office,  Maryland,  and  signed 
"  Cassel  Pontiac  Rapid,"  left  Waco  Village  by  mail  about 
two  weeks  after  the  events  of  our  opening  chapter. 
Young  Rapid  had  signed  his  full  name,  not  that  he  con 
sidered  it  either  grand  or  imposing,  but  that  there  might 
be  no  question  as  to  the  identity  of  the  writer;  for  the 
letter  was  an  important  one,  and  was  intended  to  lead  to 
important  and  specific  results.  The  Rev.  St.  John  Hope, 
who  was  an  old  friend  of  the  youth's  father,  was  requested 
to  direct  his  reply  to  the  City  of  New  Orleans. 

In  advance  of  this  letter  we  must  now  go  to  Creswood, 
and,  with  the  wand  of  the  historian,  call  back  from  the 
past  a  few  essential  years. 

Gale  Island,  which,  by  the  fury  of  storms,  has  been 
reduced  to  an  insignificant  pile  of  rocks,  was,  at  the  date 
which  we  now  recall,  a  fractional  though  detached. portion 
of  the  Atlantic  shore  of  Maryland.  In  area  it  measured 
about  ten  acres.  It  was  not  set  in  the  sea  as  an  island 
proper,  but  was  on  a  line  with  tlft  low  beach,  which,  at 
either  hand,  was  called  respectively  "  Larboard"  and 
"  Starboard"  Strand,  the  island  being  the  central  and 
determining  point,  and  intervening  so  that  larboard  and 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  15 

starboard  were  denied  a  mutual  view.  In  respect  to  the 
strand,  the  island,  though  by  no  means  an  ugly  object, 
seemed  as  much  out  of  place  as  would  seem  a  house 
towering  in  the  center  of  a  pleasant  street.  To  the  rear 
of  the  island,  that  is,  on  its  continental  side,  was  a  small 
deep  bay,  where  a  coasting-vessel  might  ride  in  safety 
though  the  sea  should  be  in  its  wrath.  Seaward  was 
deep  water,  which  led  up  to  the  front  base  of  the  island, 
and  around  it  on  either  hand,  by  a  moat  or  canal,  into 
the  little  bay  at  the  rear.  The  strands  to  the  right  and 
left  were  backed  by  abrupt  and  wooded  bluffs,  against 
which  the  waters  never  rose  unless  urged  by  irresistible 
winds. 

Captain  Gale  of  Gale  Island,  and  sole  proprietor,  was 
a  stalwart  man,  of  middle  stature ;  honest  and  rugged  in 
his  aspect.  He  was  about  forty  years  of  age,  and  already 
it  seemed  that  the  sea,  with  which  he  had  buffeted  from 
his  boyhood,  had  lodged  some  of  its  spray  in  his  hair 
and  beard.  A  wife,  a  son  of  six  years,  and  an  infant 
daughter  comprised  his  family,  to  whom  he  was  devoted, 
and  for  whom  he  worked  hard.  Captain  Gale  was  an  in 
telligent,  self-reliant,  courageous,  pacific  man,  and  a  little 
quaint  withal.  When  he  came  into  possession  of  the 
island  he  gave  it  his  own  name,  saying,  with  the  pride 
of  an  honest  pedigree,  that  there  was  not  a  better  name 
on  land  or  sea. 

A  neat  stone  cottage  now  crowned  the  ocean  front  of 
the  isle,  and  a  stout  paling-fence,  which  inclosed  the 
cottage,  kept  the  little  son  from  wandering  off  to  danger 
ous  places,  and  prevented  the  family  cow  from  poking  her 
head  in  at  the  cottage  windows.  A  noble-looking  water- 
dog  was  free  to  frisk  or  bathe,  or  lazily  sleep  in  the  sunny 
spots.  The  cottage  was  vine-clad,  and  a  few  native  trees 
and  some  exotic  shrubbery  and  phoenix-like  flowers  graced 
and  garlanded  the  premises.  It  was  a  pleasant  place, 
with  a  charming  outlook,  except  in  ugly  weather. 

Captain  Gale  was  much  away  from  "port, "as  he  called, 
his  home,  trading  along  the  coast,  sometimes  as  far  up  as 
New  York  and  as  far  down  as  Norfolk. 

Nautically  he  was  only  a  skipper,  but,  as  all  modern 
titles  are  magnified  by  social  or  official  brevet,  Skipper 


16  TEKEL, 

Gale,  out  of  like  cheap  compliment,  was  Captain  Gale, 
without  abatement,  wherever  he  set  his  foot  or  unfurled 
his  sail. 

He  had  owned  several  small  vessels,  one  after  another, 
and  each  had  borne  the  name  of  Whitecap;  and  it  was 
his  scheme  of  life,  should  he  ever  own  another,  and  yet 
another,  that  each  should  succeed  to  that  untarnished  and 
suggestive  title. 

The  Whitecap  had  long  been  a  welcome  and  expected 
visitor  in  the  estuaries  and  inlets  not  accessible  to  sea 
going  merchantmen,  and  cut  off  by  bad  roads,  or  no  roads 
at  all,  from  the  inland  marts ;  and  Captain  Gale  made  an 
honest  and  comfortable  living  by  his  traffic  with  the 
dwellers  at  those  rustic-marine  ports. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  of  a  faultless  October  day 
that  Mrs.  Gale,  for  the  twentieth  time,  went  out  upon  the 
cottage  portico  which  looked  upon  the  ocean,  and  glanced 
southward.  She  was  expecting  her  husband.  Her  face 
brightened  as  she  saw  the  Whitecap  riding  the  gently- 
heaving  billows,  and  slowly  making  for  the  home-harbor. 
She  waved  her  white  apron,  as  was  her  custom  ;  and 
Captain  Gale,  as  was  his  custom,  doubtless  observed  to 
his  crew,  with  a  quaint  pride,  that  there  flew  the  flag 
under  which  he  loved  to  sail. 

Another  custom  of  the  island,  in  which  both   Captain 
and  Mrs.  Gale  took  delight,  was  not  yet  obsolete.     As  the 
boat  crept  under  the  shore,  little  Johnny  Gale,  standing 
by  his  mother,  hailed, — 
"  Sip  ahoy  ?" 
The  answer  came  up  bold  and  hearty, — 

'  Whitecap,  Gale  master." 

'  Whar  'ou  fum  ?" 

'  Oyster  Shallows." 

'  Whar  'ou  boun'  ?" 

1  Port." 

'  'ou  can  pass." 

'  Ha  !  ha !  h-a !"  laughed  Captain  Gale,  while  the 
mother  patted  her  young  pride  on  the  cheek,  and  told 
him  if  he  continued  to  be  a  good  boy  he  should  one  day 
have  a  ship  of  his  own. 

The  vessel  was  soon  moored,  and  the  crew,  being  of 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  17 

Creswood,  were  dismissed  for  short  family  visits.  Cap 
tain  Gale,  in  his  sea-jacket,  approached  his  cottage.  His 
wife  and  baby,  boy  and  dog,  met  him  and  encompassed 
him  for  caresses.  He  bestowed  them  heartily,  and  the 
family  entered  the  cottage. 

"John,"  asked  Mrs.  Gale  of  her  husband,  "are  you 
hungry  ?" 

"  Is  a  shark  hungry?"  replied  the  captain. 

Mrs.  Gale  immediately  went  about  providing  supper, 
while  the  father  dandled  and  toyed  with  his  children. 
The  baby  was  named  Catharine,  brevet  Caddy. 

"  Come  to  supper,  John,"  brightly  said  Mrs.  Gale  ;  and 
the  husband,  whose  appetite  had  been  sharpened  by  the 
ocean  air,  and  enhanced  by  the  idea  of  eating  on  shore, 
went  in  to  a  comforting  meal. 

The  shadow  of  the  bluffs  stole  slowly  out  to  sea,  dark 
ening  the  waterscape  as  the  dusk  came  down,  and  the 
strand  grew  hazy  with  the  gathering  gloom  of  night. 

The  air  was  quite  cool,  foreboding  heavy  frost,  and 
Captain  Gale  withdrew  from  the  cottage  portico,  where, 
after  his  soothing  supper,  he  had  been  quietly  smoking  a 
soothing  pipe,  to  a  cheerful  fire  within  the  cottage.  He 
felt  as  comfortable,  cheerful,  and  snug,  before  the  bright 
fire,  as  the  cricket  chirping  from  the  crevice  of  his  hearth 
stone.  His  little  housewife  was  brisk  and  busy  ;  the 
children  were  asleep,  with  faces  peeping  from  the  cover  ; 
and  he  himself  was  resting  from  his  vessel's  helm,  and 
girdled  by  the  comforts  and  affection  of  the  home  where 
his  heart  was. 

When  Mrs.  Gale  had  put  away  her  cups  and  dishes, 
she  came  in  to  her  husband,  sat  down  by  him,  looked  up 
in  his  face,  and  smiled.  There  was  something  so  affec 
tionate,  gratified,  and  entrapping  in  the  little  woman's 
smile,  that  the  husband  suspiciously,  but  good-humoredly, 
observed, — 

"Now,  Sallie,  you  are  getting  under  my  lee.  What  is 
it, — a  new  bonnet,  or  what?" 

Mrs.  Gale  only  smiled  the  more  pleasantly,  replying, — 

"  John,  I  want  nothing." 

"  What,  then,  means  that  insinuating  sunrise  on  your 
face  ?" 

2* 


18  TEKEL, 

"  I  am  only  glad  that  you  are  come." 

"Oh,  that's  it,  is  it?"  replied  the  stout  captain,  while 
he  experienced  a  pleasant  undertow  of  domestic  emotion, 
and  thought  of  the  lines  in  which  that  tomb-vexed 
prodigy,  Byron,  told  how  deeply  dear  it  was  to  hear 
the  watch-dog's  honest  bark,  bay  deep-mouthed  welcome 
as  we  draw  near  home,  and  to  have  some  waiting  bright 
one  look  the  brighter  when  we  come.  "  Now  that  I  am 
here,  Sallie,"  continued  the  captain,  "suppose  you  give 
me  the  news." 

The  vicinity  of  Gale  Island  was  ordinarily  as  quiet  as 
an  English  dell,  rarely  enlivened  except  by  the  arrivals 
and  departures  of  the  Whitecap.  The  neighborhood 
wealth  was  monopolized  by  a  few  families,  between  whom 
sociability  appeared  to  have  reached  the  stage  of  stagna 
tion  or  petrifaction.  For  this  state  of  affairs  various 
causes  might  be  assigned,  which  we  will  not  now  investi 
gate.  The  less  pretentious  of  the  community,  however, 
circulated  freely  among  themselves,  seeking  and  extend 
ing  a  cheerful  hospitality.  Notwithstanding  an  almost 
uninterrupted  calm  in  this  uneventful  region,  Mrs.  Gale 
was  rarely  without  news  of  some  sort  for  her  husband 
when  he  came  home.  And  her  delight  or  sympathetic 
interest  in  detailing  it,  was  only  equaled  by  the  satisfac 
tion  or  neighborly  concern  with  which  he  gave  ear  to  it 
and  made  his  comments. 

"The  most  important  and  most  melancholy  news  I 
have  to  tell  you  is  that  Mrs.  Rapid  is  dead  " 

"  What!"  exclaimed  Captain  Gale.    "  Mrs.  Guy  Rapid  ?" 

"Yes." 

"There  was  not  another  such  woman  in  all  Creswood." 

Creswood  was  the  name  of  the  forest  region  adjacent  to 
Gale  Island.  It  was  originally  Crescent  Wold,  but  indo 
lent  tongues  had  contracted  and  moulded  it  into  a  word  of 
easier  articulation.  Captain  Gale  continued, — 

"  You  always  liked  her,  Sallie  ?" 

"  I  loved  her,"  said  Mrs.  Gale.  "  I  think  she  was  the 
loveliest  woman  I  ever  saw.  With  all  her  wealth  she 
was  not  too  vain  to  visit  plain  people.  And  she  was  kind 
to  the  needy.  In  her  last  hours  she  was  an  angel.  I  was 
with  her, — and  her  little  children,  God  help  them,  they 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  19 

knew  not  what  they  were  losing."  Mrs.  Gale,  somewhat 
affected,  wiped  her  eyes,  and  continued,  "  I  am  wrong. 
I  forget  about  little  Cassel, — Pony,  as  he  is  often  called. 
I  cannot  tell  you  how  that  child  acted  ;  not  like  a  frantic 
thing,  but  with  a  quiet,  wretched,  sweet,  and  untiring 
watchfulness,  that  made  my  heart  ache." 

"  When  did  she  die  ?" 

"  Just  two  weeks  ago.  The  whole  country  flocked  to 
her  funeral." 

"  That  is  of  no  consequence,"  said  Captain  Gale.  "  If 
the  devil  himself  were  to  die,  and  die  rich,  there  would  be 
no  lack  of  mourners.  But  how  about  Mr.  Rapid  ?  Does 
he  still  talk  of  going  to  Texas  ?" 

"  He  is  preparing  to  start  this  fall." 

"Has  he  sold?" 

"Everything  but  the  negroes  and  some  fine  stock,  which 
he  will  take  with  him." 

"  He  has  long  held  that  Creswood  would  never  be  much 
more  or  less  than  it  is  at  present,  and  I  am  rather  of  his 
opinion."  . 

"  But  Western  Texas  is  so  uncivilized,"  observed  Mrs. 
Gale. 

"  He  is  just  the  kind  of  man  to  civilize  it,  or  help  do  so." 

"  And  make  savages  of  his  children  meanwhile,"  re 
turned  the  wife.  "  His  little  boy  is  but  eight  years  old, 
and  his  daughter  is  almost  an  infant." 

"  He  is  able  to  educate  them  wherever  he  likes.  You 
can  rest  satisfied  that  there'll  be  no  lack  of  polish  on  Guy 
Rapid's  children  when  they  are  grown.  Creswood  is 
almost  as  far  out  of  the  world  as  Texas.  But  who  bought 
his  place  ?" 

"  He  divided  the  land  into  small  farms,  which  were 
mostly  taken  by  the  neighbors.  I  think  his  wife's  death 
has  hastened  his  departure,  and  he  has  doubtless  sold  at  a 
sacrifice." 

"  Who  took  the  mansion-house  ?" 

"  He  gave  it  away." 

"  What !    Gave  it  away  ?" 

"  Yes ;  to  our  minister,  Mr.  Hope." 

"  A  good  and  timely  deed,"  said  Captain  Gale. 

"  And  not  only  that,"  said  Mrs.  Gale,  "  but  he  connected 


TEKEL, 

.h  the  gift  about  thirty  acres  adjoining  the  house,  every 
article  of  furniture  except  some  heirlooms,  two  good  cows, 
a  pair  of  serviceable  horses,  and  the  family  carriage  and 
harness.  And  he  has  had  the  ground  marked  off,  inclosed, 
and  put  in  the  best  of  order." 

"  I  knew  there  was  no  humbug  or  half  way  about  Guy 
Rapid,  but  this  is  one  of  the  few  times  that  I  have  ever 
cast  anchor  alongside  of  the  like.  Such  volunteers,  Sallie, 
are  scarce.  And  then  Mr.  Rapid  is  not  a  member  of  Mr. 
Hope's  church,  or  of  any  other.  He  is,  moreover,  a  Loco- 
foco  and  a  Marylander,  while  Mr.  Hope  is  a  native  of  Con 
necticut  and  a  Webster  Whig.  But  the  two  men  always 
liked  each  other,  and  whenever  Rapid  gave  a  dinner-party 
Mr.  Hope  was  there  to  ask  a  blessing." 

"  But  Mrs.  Rapid  was  a  member  of  Mr.  Hope's  church, 
and  that,  in  a  measure,  may  account  for  her  husband's 
generosity,"  said  Mrs.  Gale. 

"  They  will  all  go  to  hear  the  preacher,"  said  Captain 
Gale,  "  now  that  his  sermons  will  be  composed  in  an  ele 
gant  study,  and  drawn  to  church  in  a  carriage.  Respect 
ability  is  the  thing,  Sallie.  Make  religion  respectable,  so 
that  a  man  won't  have  to  compromise  his  dignity,  or  a 
woman  her  vanity,  in  order  to  get  to  heaven.  Don't  you 
see  ?" 

"  I  hope  you'll  go  to  hear  him  then,  husband,  and  join 
the  church  also.  I  don't  like  this  separation,  John, — I  in 
the  church  and  you  barred  out  from  me, — any  more  than  I 
do  your  being  so  much  away  from  home." 

"  I  do  go  to  hear  him,"  said  Captain  Gale,  "  when  I'm 
in  port  on  Sundays.  But  as  for  being  barred  out,  as  you 
call  it,  I  could  brace  sails  and  skip  the  bar  if  I  thought  it 
the  only  port  of  entry.  But  I'm  not  so  certain  that  my  way 
is  not  as  free  of  rocks  and  breakers  as  yours,  after  all." 

"  What  is  your  way,  husband  ?" 

"  I  read  my  Bible,  say  my  prayers,  uphold  the  laws  of 
my  country,  help  poorer  men  than  myself,  and  pilot  the 
Whitecap." 

"  Quite  an  enumeration  of  saving  clauses,"  said  the 
wife;  "  but  I  very  much  doubt  if  you  ever  even  look  at 
your  Bible,  or  offer  a  prayer,  unless  you  see  a  tremendous 
storm  coming  up,"  and  Mrs.  Gale  smiled  with  affectionate 
reproach. 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  21 

"Yes,  I  do,  honey,"  replied  the  half- guilty  husband, 
who,  by  way  of  changing  the  subject,  inquired,  "  but  you 
haven't  given  me  all  the  news  yet,  Sallie  ?  Let's  have  the 
whole  of  it,  for  I'm  off  to  sea,  you  know,  with  the  change 
of  the  moon." 

"  Oh,  well,  there's  plenty  of  time ;  it  doesn't  take  a  woman 
more  than  ten  minutes — so  say  the  men — to  tell  all  she 
knows,"  said  Mrs.  Gale  with  playful  sarcasm. 

"Women,"  replied  the  retaliatory  captain,  "are  like 
shoal  water, — bottom  always  within  sight  or  sounding. 
Men  are  profound  like  the  deep  water :  you  may  not  be 
able  to  fathom  it,  but  you  know  that  the  bottom  is  down 
there." 

"Which  knowledge  does  a  vast  amount  of  good,"  said 
the  little  woman.  "  But  let  us  return  to  Creswood.  Things 
are  not  bright  at  Cliff  Hall." 

"What's  the  matter  there  now??"  asked  the  captain,  em 
phasizing  the  last  word  as  if  it  were  usage  for  something 
to  be  awry  at  Cliff  Hall,  and  the  present  occasion  an  aggra 
vated  succession  of  the  oft-recurring  ills  which  visited  that 
unfortunate  hold. 

"  Well,  to  begin,"  said  the  wife,  "the  Necromancer " 

"Stop,  Sallie,"  said  Captain  Gale  interrupting.  "No 
Necromancer  about  it.  Oswald  Huron,  you  mean  to  say." 

"  Yes.  And  since  you  are  so  exact,  I  shall  endeavor  to 
be  equally  so  in  what  I  have  to  tell,"  said  Mrs.  Gale  with 
a  jaunty  poise  of  her  person  where  she  sat  in  her  rocking- 
chair.  "  Now  you  listen,  and  don't  interrupt  me.  There 
are  two  brothers.  Neville  Huron,  the  elder,  lives  in  Phil 
adelphia  ;  Oswald  Huron,  the  younger,  lives  at  Cliff  Hall. 
You  can  see  Cliff  Hall,  if  you  will  only  wait  until  morning, 
from  our  front  portico.  It  is  on  a  bluff  about  a  mile  and  a 
fraction  up  the  Larboard  Strand." 

"Sallie,  don't  be  provoking;  you  know  I've  seen  it  at 
least  a  thousand  times." 

"Belay  your  tongue,"  laughed  Mrs.  Gale,  "and  listen. 
Oswald  Huron,  who  has  been  away  from  home,  returned 
to  Cliff  Hall  about  three  weeks  ago.  His  wife,  you  know, 
is  dead.  His  infant  daughter  is,  and  has  been,  in  the  care 
of  Maria  Guthrie,  an  old  but  somewhat  tricky  family  ser 
vant.  Very  well.  Mr.  Neville  Huron,  wife,  and  infant 


22  TEKEL, 

daughter  have  been  down  from  Philadelphia  on  a  visit  to 
Cliff  Hall,  bringing  with  them  a  Chestnut  Street  nurse. 
Soon  came  a  letter  to  Mrs.  Neville  Huron,  informing  her 
that  her  mother  was  at  the  point  of  death,  and  urging  that 
she  return  immediately  to  Philadelphia.  She  went  in  haste, 
accompanied  by  her  husband,  leaving  her  child  and  the 
nurse  at  Cliff  Hall  as  an  expedient.  Neville  Huron's  infant 
and  the  Necromancer's  infant,  both  girls,  are  about  the 
same  age,  and  so  much  alike  that  none  but  the  nurses 
can  distinguish  one  from  the  other.  Even  the  Necro- 


rnancer- 


'  Necromancer  the  dev- 


"Husb,  John,"  cried  Mrs.  Gale,  clapping  her  hand  over 
her  husband's  mouth,  "  and  let  me  go  on.  As  if  to  enhance 
their  resemblance,  the  infants  have  of  late  been  dressed 
exactly  alike,  Mrs.  Neville  Huron  having  duplicated  the 
apparel  of  her  own  child  and  presented  the  duplicates  to 
the  child  of  her  brother-in-law.  When  she  left  Cliff  Hall 
for  Philadelphia,  then  the  trouble  commenced.  The  nurse 
which  she  had  brought  down  with  her  became  dissatisfied 
and  cut  out.  There  was  Oswald  Huron  with  two  young 
babies  on  his  hands,  not  knowing  t'other  from  which,  and 
not  the  mildest-mannered  man  in  the  world,  as  you  well 
know,"  and  Mrs.  Gale  laughed,  "and  with  but  one  nurse 
to  attend  to  them.  He  actually  sent  down  to  me  for  advice 
or  assistance;  and,  after  much  persuasion,  I  induced  Amy 
Turnbolt,  your  niece,  who  has  a  superstitious  dread  of  Cliff 
Hall,  and  especially  of  the  Necromancer,  to  go  up  there 
and  take  charge  of  Mrs..  Neville  Huron's  infant.  So  the 
babies  now  have  a  nurse  each,  and  are  nourished  entirely 
from  milk-bottles  and  sugar-tits.  Did  I  do  right  ?" 

"Yes,  honey,  you  did  right,  as  you  always  try  to  do; 
though  we  don't  owe  Oswald  Huron  any  special  good  will. 
He  accused  me  of  smuggling  once;  that  is,  he  called  me  a 
smuggler  to  my  face.  I  asked  him  if  he  had  ever  made 
that  assertion  elsewhere.  He  replied  that  he  had  not.  I 
then  told  him  that  he  had  simply  uttered  a  falsehood  of 
which  I  could  afford  to  take  no  notice.  He  drew  a  pistol 
on  me.  I  took  it  away  from  him,  and  threw  it  into  the 
sea.  He  measured  me  with  his  eye,  and  though  a  tall  and 
powerful  man  himself,  he  evidently  concluded  that  I  was 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  23 

pretty  rugged,  and  contented  himself  with  threatening  to 
put  an  honest  trading-boat  in  my  waters.  You  recollect 
that  the  Whitecap  for  awhile  had  a  rival.  That  rival  was 
launched  against  the  Whitecap  by  Oswald  Huron.  How 
ever,  as  the  enterprise  failed,"  continued  Captain  Gale 
complacently,  "  I  don't  harbor  any  particular  malice  ;  but 
I  am  not  indebted  to  him  for  any  favors.  His  brother, 
Neville,  is  much  the  better  man,  and  as  long  as  it  is  his 
child  that  Amy  cares  for,  I've  no  objection  to  make.  But 
I  am  surprised  that  Oswald  Huron  should  have  applied  to 
you.  His  disposition  is  by  no  means  relenting,  and  don't 
you  know,  Sallie,  that  though  I  can  forgive  him  for  his  at 
tempt  to  injure  me,  he  can  never  forgive  me?  It  is  so 
with  the  world." 

"  What  became  of  the  rival  boat  ?"  asked  Mrs  Gale. 

"  As  I  said  before,  it  was  a  failure.  He  sold  it,  and 
I've  not  heard  of  it  since." 

"  John,  you  never  told  me  one  word  of  this." 

"What  was  the  use?  I  do  not  carry  your  troubles  to 
sea  with  me,  and  I  won't  bring  mine  ashore  to  perplex 
you." 

"  That  Oswald  Huron  is  a  strange  man,"  said  Mrs. 
Gale  reflectively.  "  Do  you  believe,  husband,  that  he  is 
anything  of  a  necromancer  ?" 

"  Fiddle-dee,  Sallie  ;  there  are  no  such  things, — at  least 
on  land." 

"  They  are  all  at  sea,  are  they,  John  ?"  laughed  the 
wife. 

"  Sallie,  what's  the  use  reviving  that  old  question  be 
tween  us  ?" 

"  Because  I  think  you  sailors  are  so  ridiculous.  Now, 
I  want  you  to  tell  me  for  good  and  all,  do  you,  or  do  you 
not,  believe  those  strange  and  horrible  legends  of  the 
sea  ?" 

"  They  are  like  many  other  things,  Sallie,  which  we  are 
called  upon  to  put  faith  in.  I  can't  say  that  I  actually 
believe  them,  but  some  of  them  have  a  hold  upon  me  that 
I  neither  can  or  care  to  shake  off.  It  is  a  kind  of  religion, 
and  has  made  me  shift  my  helm,  and  then  laugh  at  my- 
?elf,  more  than  once.  But  there  is  one  superstition  which, 
whether  I  believe  in  it  or  not,  I  would  not  dare  to  trans 
gress  or  disregard." 


24  TEKEL, 

"What  is  that,  John  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Gale,  interested  be 
yond  the  ordinary. 

"  The  sailor's  Black  Oath,"  said  Captain  Gale  impres 
sively. 

"What  sort  of  a  black  thing  is  it?"  asked  Mrs.  Gale 
with  a  lurking  smile. 

"  It's  an  oath  which  is  sooner  or  later  followed  by  retri 
bution  at  sea,  if  the  swearer  ever  violates  it  or  perjures 
himself  in  the  taking  of  it." 

"  But  what  does  he  swear  by  ?"  asked  the  little  woman. 

"  Pshaw  1  Sallie  ;  you  will  never  have  to  take  it." 

"  But  I  want  to  know  what  it  is,"  urged  the  wife. 

"Well,"  consented  the  husband,  "the  sailor  pledges 
'  By  the  salt  at  the  bottom  of  Neptune's  grog?  "  and  Cap 
tain  Gale's  countenance  indicated  that  he  considered  the 
pledge  no  mere  holiday  password. 

The  effect  upon  Mrs.  Gale  was  irresistible  ;  and  much 
to  the  surprise  and  somewhat  to  the  discomfiture  of  the 
earnest  captain,  she  greeted  his  grave  announcement  with 
a  carol  of  heartfelt  merry  laughter. 

"  Tut,  Sallie,"  finally  remonstrated  Captain  Gale,  "  you 
outcackle  a  pullet  over  her  first  egg." 

"  But,  John,  it  does  sound  so  much  like  '  Tales  of  the 
Ocean,'  which  I  used  to  read  when  you  were  a  sailor  lad, 
and  I  was  your  lassie." 

The  captain  softened  at  this  timely  and  affectionate 
reference.  He  observed, — 

"During  that  time,  Sallie,  I  took  the  Black  Oath  my 
self." 

"  You  took  the  Black  Oath  !" 

"  Yes." 

"  What  in  the  world  for  ?" 

"  To  satisfy  your  father." 

"  My  father  ?    Why  did  he  require  it  ?" 

"  On  your  account,  honey.  Sailors,  you  know,  are  prone 
to  be  Mormons,  having  a  wife  at  every  port.  But  you 
need  not  laugh  at  the  sailor's  oath,  for  punishment  follows 
its  violation  as  sure  as  fruit  follows  bloom  ;  at  least  I  have 
not  known  it  otherwise.  I  will  mention  one  case, — Joe 
Aiken  ;  do  you  recollect  him  ?" 

"  Yes.     Was  he  a  sailor  ?" 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  25 

"  He  was  a  salt-water  man,"  said  Captain  Gale.  "  Well, 
he  took  the  Black  Oath,  and  violated  it  when  he  betrayed 
that  simple-hearted  Ennis  girl.  He  was  always  afraid 
of  salt  water  after  that,  and  kept  away  from  it  for 
years.  At  last,  when  he  was  a  little  drunker  than  usual, 
he  stepped  into  a  skiff  and  shoved  off.  The  tide  was  flowing 
out.  He  had  no  oars.  He  was  carried  to  sea  ;  and  that 
was  the  last  of  him.  The  skiff  was  washed  ashore, 
bottom  upwards,  about  a  week  after." 

"  He  was  no  loss  to  the  neighborhood,"  observed  Mrs. 
Gale ;  "  arid  speaking  of  him,  reminds  me  that  his  son 
Jonas,  and  several  other  young  men  about  here,  are  going 
to  Texas  with  Mr.  Rapid." 

"  What  does  Guy  Rapid  want  with  such  a  fellow  as 
Jonas  Aiken  ?  Of  the  few  bad  characters  about  Creswood 
he  is  decidedly  the  worst,  and  a  mere  boy  at  that." 

"  Some  of  them  go  as  herders,  some  to  seek  their  for 
tunes  in  the  West." 

"  Guy  Rapid  is  doing  Creswood  a  service  by  taking 
Jonas  out  of  it;  but  I  can't  say  that  he  manifests  a  due  re 
gard  for  the  community  to  which  he  shall  introduce  him," 
said  Captain  Gale,  laughing. 

"  Jonas  will  not  be  much  the  better  of  wild  cattle  and 
Indians,"  responded  Mrs.  Gale. 

After  a  continued  rambling  and  conjugal  conversation, 
Captain  Gale  went  out  to  make  his  boat  snug  for  the  night, 
while  Mrs.  Gale  turned  down  the  bedcover  and  beat  up 
the  pillows,  with  the  wifely  ambition  of  making  her  hus 
band's  berth  with  her  snugger  than  his  bunk  on  board  the 
Whiteca.p. 

As  Captain  Gale  was  stepping  aboard  of  his  craft,  he 
heard  a  stifled  shriek,  followed  instantly  by  a  heavy  splash 
in  the  water  on  the  opposite  side  of  his  little  bay.  He 
sprang  into  a  skiff  which  was  always  kept  on  duty  at  the 
island,  and  with  vigorous  stfokes  shot  across  to  the  point 
whence  came  the  unusual  sounds.  Nearing  the  opposite 
shore,  he  saw,  in  the  twilight  of  the  brilliant  stars,  a 
human  head,  with  long  hair  straying  on  the  surface  of  the 
water.  He  grasped  the  hair,  and  attempted  to  drag  into 
the  skiff  what  proved  to  be  a  woman. 

3 


26  TEKEL, 


CHAPTER  III. 

"  LET  go  my  hair,  Uncle  John  ;  you  are  pulling  it  out!" 
cried  a  feminine  voice  from  the  water. 

"  Thunder  and  lightning,  Amy  Turnbolt !  What  the 
devil  are  you  doing  in  here  ?" 

"  Let  go  my  hair,  I  tell  you,  or  darned  if  I  don't  capsize 
your  skiff; — you  know  I  can  swim; — pull  me  in  by  the 
arms,"  cried  the  girl  in  ready  words  but  distracted  tone. 

"  A  pretty  swim  you'd  make  of  it  with  all  your  clothes 
on,"  said  Captain  Gale  as  he  drew  his  niece  into  the  skiff. 
He  then  rowed  back  to  the  Whitecap  without  another 
word.  He  knew  that  Amy  Turnbolt  was  either  crazed 
or  most  terribly  frightened.  He  took  her  into  the  little 
cabin  of  his  vessel  and  lighted  a  lamp.  He  threw  a 
blanket  about  the  wet  girl  and  seated  her.  She  was  pale 
and  wild,  and  shivering  from  cold  and  terror.  Captain 
Gale  uncorked  a  bottle,  poured  out  half  a  pint  of  still  wine, 
and  gave  it  to  her.  The  wine  in  a  measure  braced  and 
restored  her. 

"  Now,  Amy,  tell  me  what  has  happened,"  said  Captain 
Gale  a  little  sternly,  for  he  knew  that  there  was  something 
behind  the  involuntary  bath  from  which  he  had  just  res 
cued  her. 

"  Oh,  uncle,  it  is  dreadful!"  she  almost  whispered. 

"  Tell  me  what  it  is,  Amy,"  calmly  urged  the  uncle. 

"  Oh,  Uncle  John,  let  me  rest  a  little  and  recollect  what 
it  was, — it  is  so  like  a  dream  to  me." 

"  Captain  Gale  waited.     Finally  he  observed, — 

"  You  have  been  up  at  Cliff  Hall  nursing,  Sallie  tells 
me." 

"  Oh,  I  didn't  want  to  go  there  at  all  where  that  Necro 
mancer  was,  and  that  was  the  beginning  of  this  terrible 
thing." 

At  length  the  girl  was  induced  to  tell  her  story.  Tt 
seemed  that  she  and  Maria  Guthrie,  the  other  nurse  at 
Cliff  Hall,  with  the  two  infant  daughters  of  Neville  and 


OR    CORA    GLENCOE.  21 

Oswald  Huron,  had  been  rambling  in  the  woods  during 
the  day.  They  seated  themselves  upon  the  verge  of  a 
precipice.  At  their  feet  was  a  deep  chasm.  Their  seat 
was  on  a  shelving  rock,  which,  when  they  attempted  to 
rise  for  the  purpose  of  returning  to  the  Hall,  tilted  over 
the  bluff  with  them.  The  other  nurse  threw  her  disen 
gaged  arm  about  a  sapling,  and  regained  her  footing  ;  but 
Amy,  in  order  to  save  herself,  was  compelled  to  let  go  her 
charge,  and  the  infant  was  torn  and  dashed  to  pieces  by  a 
fall  of  more  than  a  hundred  feet.  Amy  fled  in  dismay, 
and  hid  in  the  woods  until  after  dark,  when  she  started  for 
the  island.  Her  terror  grew  with  every  step,  and  hearing 
noises  behind  her,  she  sped  through  the  forest,  satisfied 
that  the  Necromancer  was  almost  upon  her  with  an  un 
earthly  vengeance.  In  her  haste  to  reach  the  island  she 
fell  into  the  bay. 

Amy's  story  was  not  coherent  in  every  respect,  but  the 
foregoing  was,  succinctly,  about  all  that  her  uncle  could 
make  of  it ;  and  although  he  credited  the  story  in  the 
main,  he  thought  it  probable  that  the  nurses  were  more 
careless  and  to  blame  than  Amy's  account  admitted. 

Captain  Gale  was  proud  of  the  unsullied  though  humble 
fame  of  his  family.  He  was  also,  upon  well-grounded 
and  intelligent  principle,  strictly  a  law-abiding  and  law 
sustaining  citizen.  Therefore  when  Amy  entreated  him 
to  take  her  out  of  the  country  and  away  from  the  wrath 
of  the  Necromancer,  he  answered, — 

"  Amy,  if  you  have  told  me  the  truth  ;  that  is,  if  you 
have  not  had  the  actual  facts  frightened  out  of  your  mind 
by  your  natural  and  unnatural  terror,  there  will  be  no  oc 
casion  for  you  to  leave  the  country ;  and  furthermore, 
under  no  circumstances  would  such  a  course  be  the  proper 
one.  This  unfortunate  accident  will  undergo  a  legal  inves 
tigation,  for  Oswald  Huron  is  a  confirmed  litigant,  and  of 
course  must  have  it  into  court.  Now  don't  become  yet 
more  alarmed.  Will  Maria  Guthrie  corroborate  what  you 
have  told  me  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir,  every  word  of  it,"  answered  Amy  with  a  pos 
sibly  suspicious  alacrity.  Captain  Gale  continued, — 

"  Very  well,  then,  you  will  have  nothing  to  fear.  I  will 
employ  Lawyer  May  to  act  as  your  counsel,  and  when  the 


28  TEKEL, 

matter  is  disposed  of  in  the  regular  way,  it  will  be  forever 
buried.  But  you  go  running  off  or  hiding,  and  you'll  get 
yourself  into  shoal  water,  and  flounder  the  balance  of  your 
life.  If  you  run  away,  it  is  equivalent  to  pleading  guilty, 
and  might  lead  to  severe  punishment." 

Amy,  who  was  rather  a  headstrong  girl,  had  sense 
to  appreciate  her  uncle's  counsel.  She  also  placed  great 
confidence  in  Lawyer  May,  who,  in  addition  to  his  legal 
and  social  force,  had  few  reasons  to  befriend  Oswald  Hu 
ron,  and  many  not  to  befriend  him.  She  determined  to 
face  an  investigation. 

"Uncle,  I'm  cold,"  she  at  length  said. 

"Come  into  the  house  then, — to  the  fire." 

Captain  Gale  had  remained  so  long  out  of  the  cottage, 
that  Mrs.  Gale,  by  no  means  timorous,  began  to  grow  un 
easy.  Her  uneasiness  was  changed  to  amazement  and 
horror  when  Amy  was  brought  in  and  her  story  twice  told, 
with  this  addition,  that  the  naangled  remains  of  the  infant 
had  been  abandoned  by  the  nurses,  who  had  found  it  im 
possible  to  reach  the  spot  where  the  child  lay  dead. 

Oswald  Huron,  of  Cliff  Hall,  a  tall,  dark  man  of  towering 
passions,  was  roused  to  fury  when  told  of  the  calamity, 
and  the  Hall  resounded  with  his  voice  and  tread.  He  as 
serted  rapidly  and  again  that  the  nurses  had  murdered  the 
child,  or  trifled  its  life  away  ;  and  that  they  should  feel  the 
weight  of  the  criminal  law,  and  otherwise  know  what  it 
was  to  come  under  his  wrath.  Had  it  been  reported  to  him 
that  his  own  child  was  dead,  and  reported  by  the  nurse 
who  was  responsible  for  its  life  and  comfort,  he,  rather  than 
not,  would  have  butchered  the  messenger  before  the  words 
were  cool.  A£  it  was,  he  dismissed  Maria  Guthrie  sum 
marily,  and  sent  the  surviving  infant  over  to  Mrs.  Hope, 
the  minister's  wife,  requesting  her  to  take  charge  of  it  for 
a  few  days.  Summoning  assistance,  he  provided  himself 
with  ropes,  and  proceeded  to  recover  the  little  corpse  which 
lay  so  ghastly  and  alone  out  in  the  gloomy  chasm  to  which 
it  would  long  give  a  tragic  and  elegiac  repute.  It  was  piti 
lessly  torn  by  the  rude  rocks  against  which  it  had  raked 
and  rasped  in  its  fall,  and  nothing  but  the  golden  locket  sus 
pended  from  its  wrenched  neck  could  have  identified  it. 
In  this  locket  was  incased  a  daguerreotype  miniature  of 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  29 

Neville  Huron.  About  the  neck  of  the  surviving  infant 
hung  a  similar  locket  with  similar  contents,  each  being  pres 
ents  from  Neville  Huron,  one  to  his  own  child,  the  other, 
to  the  child  of  his  brother. 

The  mangled  body  was  gathered  up,  and  clothed  and 
coffined  for  the  tomb,  with  the  locket  about  its  neck,  and  on. 
the  second  succeeding  day  Oswald  Huron  started  to  Phil 
adelphia  with  a  clod  of  precious  clay, — all  that  he  could 
return  of  the  priceless,  warm  little  life  and  motion  which 
had  been  so  unfortunately  left  in  his  care.  But  before 
leaving  Creswood  he  had  not  failed  to  place  Maria  Guthrie 
and  Amy  Turnbolt  under  bonds  to  appear  at  the  next  sit 
ting  of  the  court  of  criminal  jurisdiction. 

It  is  one  of  the  most  difficult  things  in  the  world  for  two 
or  more  persons  to  concert  a  lie,  and,  apart  from  each  other, 
so  tell  it  as  to  deceive  an  acute  lawyer;  especially  when 
that  lawyer,  acting  as  their  counsel,  is  entitled  to  a  measure 
of  their  confidence,  and  enjoys  the  privilege  of  probing  their 
bosoms.  Not  that  there  is  any  peculiar  ingenuity  or  talent 
required  for  the  simple  asseveration  of  a  direct  and  com 
plete  falsehood,  but  the  trouble  is  to  make  the  lie  fit  the 
truth  which  surrounds  it,  and  accommodate  all  the  tribu 
tary  circumstances  which  flow  in  upon  it. 

Lawyer  May,  as  counsel  for  Amy  Turnbolt  and  Maria 
Guthrie,  was  perfectly  well  satisfied,  after  he  had  examined 
them,  that  there  was  a  concealment,  a  secret  between  them, 
which,  though  it  should  be  divulged,  might  not  attach  guilt 
to  them  in  respect  to  the  infant's  death,  but  would,  notwith 
standing,  put  a  different  color  upon  that  unfortunate  event. 
What  it  was  that  they  were  withholding,  he  could  neither 
imagine  nor  extract  from  them,  but  that  it  was  something 
he  was  morally  certain. 

Precedent  after  precedent  (if  the  phrase  is  allowable), 
and  some  of  them  illustrious  in  their  character,  has  long 
established,  among  the  members  of  the  litigious  bar,  that 
it  is  the  duty  of  a  lawyer,  in  the  capacity  of  counsel  and 
advocate,  to  assert  and  maintain  the  innocence  of  his  client, 
however  guilty  the  lawyer  himself  may,  by  deduction  or 
private  confession,  know  that  client  to  be. 

Lawyer  May,  of  Creswood,  an  honorable  man,  and  a  gen 
tleman  withal,  did  not  swav  from  the  established  profes- 

3* 


30  TEKEL, 

sional  rule  when  he  defended  Amy  Turnbolt  and  Maria 
Guthrie  from  the  exceptional  and  vigorous  legal  assaults 
of  Oswald  Huron,  and  brought  them  off  innocent  in  the  eye 
of  the  law  as  two  young  lambs. 

Captain  Gale  honestly  sustained  his  niece,  and,  indi 
rectly,  Maria  Guthrie,  with  whose  fortunes  those  of  his 
niece  were  linked  in  this  particular  interest. 

In  general,  Oswald  Huron  was  an  inimical.  In  detail, 
he  was  a  foe,  none  the  less  bitter  or  inveterate  from  his 
consciousness  of  being  in  the  wrong.  Creswood,  and  all 
therein,  he  held  in  utter  contempt,  with  the  exception, 
possibly,  of  Mr.  St.  John  Hope,  whose  walk  in  life  was 
irreproachable,  and  whose  years  were  beginning  to  make 
him  venerable ;  neither  of  which  facts  or  conditions  inter 
fered  with  the  whims  and  what-nots  of  Mr.  Oswald 
Huron..  Though  rarely  leaving  his  premises,  he,  by  his 
wealth  and  vindictive  mental  activity,  was  enabled  to 
annoy  almost  every  one  upon  whom  he  took  a  fancy  to 
fix  his  displeasure ;  and  frequently  his  displeasure  fell 
without  premonition  or  provocation.  Where  it  would 
fall  next  was  as  uncertain  as  the  spot  upon  which  the 
next  thunderbolt  would  descend.  Socially  he  was  an  iota, 
a  jot.  His  heart  was  fiery  and  impracticable,  and  his 
disposition  would  have  essayed  discord  in  the  presence  of 
the  great  Irenarch  himself.  He  did  not  care  a  hoot  for 
anybody's  opinions  but  his  own,  and  in  his  action  was  as 
inconsistent  as  the  absolute  temperance  reformer,  who,  in 
exhausting  his  subject,  prematurely  exhausts  himself,  and 
thereupon  calls  for  an  invigorator,  a  rum-punch  for  in 
stance,  with  a  green  brier  in  it. 

After  the  legal  investigation  of  the  causes  which  cut 
short  the  career  of  the  infant  Huron  had  resulted  in  the 
unconditional  discharge  of  the  two  nurses,  unusually 
rough  words,  provoked  by  Oswald  Huron,  passed  between 
himself  and  Lawyer  May,  which,  with  the  unfortunate  and 
crooked  temper  of  Mr.  Huron,  complicated  the  future  his 
tory  of  the  Huron  brothers,  and  led  to  deplorable  results. 

Oswald  Huron  also  set  upon  Captain  Gale  for  innocently 
and  energetically  sustaining  his  niece,  and  although  the 
dauntless  mariner,  out  of  compassion  for  Mr.  Huron's 
natural  distress,  bore  and  forbore  a  deal  more  than  was 


OR    CORA    GLENCOE.  31 

palatable,  a  serious  personal  encounter  had  been  imminent, 
and  was  only  averted  by  the  pacific  coolness  of  the  stout 
captain.  . 

Over  the  hills  and  through  the  forest,  at  a  distance  of 
some  three  or  four  miles  from  Gale  Island,  a  country-store, 
surrounded  by  a  few  straggling  houses,  the  nucleus  of  a 
possible  village,  was  kept  by  Mr.  Ichabod  Nutt,  who  dealt 
in  the  customary  articles  of  neighborhood  barter. 

Captain  Gale  accommodated  Mr.  Nutt  with  imported 
goods,  in  part  return  for  which  the  merchant  passed  over 
to  the  captain  'the  available  produce  of  the  country. 
Periodically  a  balancing  of  accounts  current  transpired 
between  them,  and  it  was  odd  if  the  cash  balance  was  not 
in  favor  of  the  Whitecap. 

In  pure  business  transactions  Captain  Gale  was  as 
prompt  to  collect  as  he  was  prompt  to  pay,  and  for  the  pur 
pose  of  arranging  an  important  balance,  he  stepped  into 
Mr.  Nutt's  place  of  business  one  fine  morning  in  the  lat 
ter  part  of  the  autumn  which  introduced  the  reader  to 
Creswood.  Having  settled  with  the  merchant  and  spent 
some  time  with  him  in  neighborly  gossip,  he  was  about  to 
return  to  the  island,  when  Oswald  Huron,  a  seldom  visitor, 
entered  the  store,  encountering  Captain  Gale  almost  at 
the  threshold.  Mr.  Huron  raised  his  cane  as  if  to  strike. 
It  was  a  custom,  nay,  almost  a  pastime,  of  his,  to  put  out 
his  cane,  tap  a  man  on  the  shoulder,  and  accompany  the 
action  with  words  of  sarcasm  or  direct  insult,  as  the  sub 
ject,  to  him,  would  seem  to  justify.  Captain  Gale  caught 
the  cane  and  wrenched  it  from  his  grasp.  The  aggressor, 
disarmed,  used  his  tongue.  Captain  Gale  turned  to  Mr. 
Nutt  and  made  some  droll  remark  about  Mr.  Huron  being 
crazy.  Oswald  Huron  glared  at  him,  but  the  captain 
walked  serenely  away,  taking  opportunity,  however,  to  turn 
to  his  foe  and  observe,  while  he  held  up  the  wrested  cane, — 

"  You  had  better  prefer  charges  against  me  for  highway 
robbery." 

As  it  often  falls  out,  or  in,  soon  after  Captain  Gale  bore 
off  the  cane,  Lawyer  May  entered  the  store  to  make  some 
purchases.  Oswald  Huron,  with  so  little  hesitation  that 
it  appeared  ridiculous,  confronted  him  and  said, — 

"  You  are  a  scoundrel,  sir." 


32  TEKEL, 

"Your  epithet  is  actionable,"  said  Lawyer  May,  who 
was  a  tall,  slender,  elegant-looking  man. 

"  Act  upon  it,  then,"  replied  Oswald  Huron,  with  a 
haughty,  ferocious  look. 

"  Mr.  Huron,"  observed  the  lawyer,  calmly,  "  you  will 
do  me  a  pleasure,  and  (if  that  is  no  consideration)  your 
self  a  service  possibly,  by  never  addressing  me  again." 

"  Do  you  presume  to  threaten  me,  sir  ?"  was  the  fierce 
demand,  accompanied  by  a  vehement  gesture  and  a  step 
forward. 

Mr.  May  turned  upon  his  heel,  walked  back  to  the  rear 
of  the  store,  took  a  drink  of  water,  sat  down  under  the 
clock,  drew  out  a  memorandum-book,  and  cast  his  eyes 
over  the  list  of  articles  which  he  desired  to  purchase.  Os 
wald  Huron  strode  out  and  went  home,  after  having  left 
an  order  for  some  family  comforts. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

SITTING  upon  the  portico  of  the  cottage  at  Gale  Island 
and  looking  with  a  spy-glass  toward  the  north,  that  is  to 
say,  up  the  Larboard  Strand,  an  observer  might  have  seen, 
very  distinctly,  Amy  Turnboltand  Maria  Guthrie  perched 
upon  what  was  called  the  Tarpeian  Rock.  This  rock  was 
a  large  detachment  of  an  overhanging  crag.  It  had  fallen 
upon  the  strand  from  above,  and  formed  a  kind  of  objective 
rendezvous  for  the  eyes  and  steps  of  idlers  and  pleasure- 
walkers. 

From  numerous  tosses  of  the  head,  mingled  with  other 
peculiarly  feminine  gesticulations,  a  lively  dialogue  ap 
peared  to  be  in  progress  between  these  whilom  nurses. 

As  the  dialogue  continued,  the  gestures  all  at  once  sub 
sided,  and  the  two  women  evidently  began  to  talk  in  earnest. 
It  may  not  be  amiss  to  intrude  upon  them,  and  learn  if  pos 
sible  what  it  can  be  that  is  magical  enough  to  reduce  the 
rattle-tattle  of  two  gossiping  females  to  a  sober,  earnest 
conversation. 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.       .  33 

"But  you  intend  to  leave  here,  and  of  course  you  don't 
care,"  continued  Amy  with  some  bitterness. 

"I'm  going  to  leave  here?  Yes,  I  am,  because  I've  got 
no  livelihood  here,  and  I  must  go  where  I  can  make  my 
livelihood.  But  do  you  think  I'd  go  off  and  let  it  be  as  it 
is,  and  leave  that  hateful  Oswald  Huron  to  father  the  child, 
and  get  gratification  from  it,  and  it  not  his,  and  Mr.  Neville 
Huron  such  a  gentleman,  and  his  wife  such  a  lady,  what 
little  I  saw  of  them  ?  If  I  had  no  other  conscience  about 
me  I'd  at  least  fix  up  to  bring  out  the  fact-justice  of  it,  just 
to  spite  and  bite  Oswald  Huron.  I  wasn't  his  help,  but 
his  wife's,  which  he  worreted  to  her  death,  and  I  wouldn't 
a'  staid  with  him  a  minute  after  she  died  only  for  the  sakes 
of  the  baby  and  its  dead  mother." 

With  a  look  of  mingled  apprehension  and  reproach,  Amy 
asked, — 

"And  who's  to  stay  and  meet  him  with  his  Satan  tem 
per  and  his  wizzard  doings  ?  I  am  innocent,  and  have 
helped  you  out  of  this,  and  I  won't  let  you  put  it  off  on  to 
me,"  and  Amy  burst  out  crying. 

"Wizzard  scratch!"  emphatically  and  contemptuously 
replied  Mrs.  Guthrie.  "  He's  no  more  of  a  neckermancer 
than  your  granny.  If  he  is  a  wizzard  and  neckermancer, 
why  couldn't  he  tell  his  own  child  from  his  brother's?  and 
why  can't  he  tell  what's  wrong  now?" 

This  seemed  to  impress  Amy  and  encourage  some  hope 
within  her.  Mrs.  Guthrie  continued, — 

"But  I  don't  intend  to  leave  you  in  his  claws.  Any 
body  that  sticks  to  me  as  you  did  through  frightenings  and 
writs  and  lawyers  and  courts,  will  find  that  Marie  Guthrie, 
poor  slaving  woman  as  she  is,  is  not  going  to  run  off 
and  leave  her  friend  in  desertion.  I'm  going  to  Lawyer 
May,  who  is  a  gentleman,  whatever  other  lawyers  be,  and 
tell  him  the  truth. — the  truth,  mind  you,  Amy, — and  get 
him  to  put  it  into  some  writ  form  of  suppeeny  or  affidavit  or 
whatever  it  is,  and  leave  it  with  him,  and  so  condition  him 
that  nobody  is  to  hear  a  breath  of  it  till  I  get  out  of  reach. 
That  will  throw  the  blame  on  to  me,  where  it  belongs,  and 
my  going  off  will  confirm  it  on  to  me.  When  I  am  gone, 
you  go  to  your  uncle  Gale  and  get  him  to  make  a  writ  form 
from  your  word  o'  mouth,  and  tell  him  to  see  Lawyer  May, 


34  TEKEL, 

and  fix  it  up  amongst  them  the  best  way  they  can.  That 
will  pacify  everything  with  you  entirely;  and  Captain  Gale 
is  man  enough  for  Oswald  Huron  any  day,  and  he  don't 
owe  Oswald  Huron  money  or  favor,  nor  Lawyer  May  don't 
owe  him  money  or  favor,  and  Maria  Guthrie  don't  owe 
him  money  or  favor,  and  when  I  get  away  from  Ores- 
wood  to  my  friends  down  in  Maryland,  amongst  the  old 
Irish  stock,  I  can  give  my  defiance  to  neckermancer 
Huron  and  the  devil's  den  of  him.  When  I  first  con- 
trappe'd  this  thing,  on  the  very  spot  where  I  took  and  held 
you,  I  didn't  mean  it  to  staijd  any  longer  than  I  could 
leave  here.  Supposen  I  had  gone  and  told  that  toma- 
hawker  that  it  was  his  child  that  was  dead;  he'd  have 
blowed  my  brains  out  or  cut  me  down  to  the  teeth  with  a 
hatchet.  Supposen  I'd  run  off  entirely,  and  you  had  run 
off,  as  you  was  a  doing ;  what  sort  of  a  fix  would  we  have 
been  in,  with  Oswald  Huron  and  the  law  officers  after  us 
for  murder,  and  nobody  left  even  to  take  the  live  child 
home  ?  Maria  Guthrie's  no  fool,  and  what  she  tells  you, 
Amy  Turnbolt,  you  go  and  do  likewise." 

Amy  yielded,  being  almost  convinced  and  wholly  con 
strained. 

A  few  days  after  the  above  conversation,  Maria  Guthrie 
presented  herself  to  Lawyer  May,  and  abruptly  entered 
upon  the  business  which  brought  her  into  the  lawyer's 
office. 

"  Lawyer  May,"  said  she,  "  I  come  to  tell  you  something, 
but  before  I  do  it,  I  want  you  to  swear  to  me  on  your  Bible 
that  you  won't  give  breath  to  it  before  this  day  a  month 
ahead." 

"Can't  you  trust  my  discretion?"  asked  the  lawyer. 

"No  discretion  about  it,"  replied  Maria  Guthrie;  "  and 
if  there  is,  it's  my  own  discretion  entirely  to  tell  you  or  not." 

"Very  well,"  said  Mr.  May,  appreciating  that  it  would  be 
more  satisfactory  to  know  the  secret  and  keep  it  than  to  be 
compelled  to  keep  it  by  reason  of  not  knowing  it. 

Mrs.  Guthrie  proceeded  to  administer  to  Mr.  May  an 
oath  as  binding,  mixed,  and  particular  as  the  so-called  iron 
clad  oath  of  the  present  day,  during  which  performance  the 
lawyer  could  with  difficulty  preserve  his  gravity. 

"I  wish  you  to  put  what  I've  got  to  say  into  a  writ 


OR   CORA    OLENCOE.  35 

form,"  said  Mrs.  Guthrie,  satisfied  that  the  oath — for  the 
special  clinching  of  which  she  had  brought  along  an  old 
Bible — would  most  undoubtedly  stick. 

"You  wish  to  make  an  affidavit  or  a  deposition?"  sug 
gested  Mr.  May. 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  It  will  be  necessary  then  to  go  before  some  magistrate, 
or  officer  with  a  seal." 

"No  officer,  or  magistrate,  or  seal  shall  have  the  first 
word  of  it  under  Bible  oath.  I  want  you  to  make  it  up 
yourself." 

"  I  am  not  competent,"  said  the  lawyer. 

"Not  competent?  I  thought  you  was  the  smartest  and 
bookiest  man  in  Creswood." 

"I  mean  that  I  am  not  authorized." 

"Well;  if  lawyers  aint  authorized,  who  are?" 

"  Tell  me  what  you  wish  to  make  known,  and  what 
you  desire  to  accomplish.  I  can  then  determine  upon  the 
proper  method." 

"No,  sir.  If  there  are  so  many  quirks  and  turns  about 
it,  I'll  be  a  little  cranky  myself.  I'll  ask  some  explanations." 

"  I  am  willing  to  explain,  but  am  not  in  a  very  eligible 
position  to  do  so,  and — it's  your  affair,  not  mine." 

"  I  know  it's  my  affair,  and  I  want  to  keep  it  my  affair 
for  a  month  to  come ;  but  I  want  to  put  it  down  in  witness 
now,  with  nobody  any  the  wiser  but  yourself." 

"  I  appreciate  your  confidence,"  said  Lawyer  May  with  a 
slight  bow.  "What  you  are  qualified,  under  the  circum 
stances,  to  do,  is  to  make  an  affidavit.  A  deposition  re 
quires  due  notice  to  opposite  parties,  if  there  are  any,  and 
is  usually  attended,  at  least  sometimes,  by  a  cross-exami 
nation  of  the  deponent  at  the  time  the  deposition  is  taken." 

"  Can't  I  tell  you,"  categorically  asked  Mrs.  Guthrie, 
"  and  get  you  to  write  down  facts  and  figures  of  dates, 
which  will  be  witness  at  law  in  a  case  of  suit?" 

To  this  ingenious  and  staccato  question  the  lawyer  re 
plied, — 

"  I  can  put  into  an  affidavit  anything  which  you  may 
wish  to  state,  you  can  sign  it,  and  swear  to  it  before  a 
magistrate, — not  before  me, — and  the  magistrate  need  not 
know  what  the  affidavit  contains ;  but  as  to  its  being,  as  you 


36  TEKEL, 

say,  witness  at  law  in  case  of  suit,  it  will  only  be  ex-parte 
testimony." 

Mrs.  Guthrie  was  flattered  by  the  fact  that  lawyer  May 
had  quoted  her  own  words,  which  she  doubted  not  were 
the  best  that  could  be  used  in  that  particular  connection, 
and  was  encouraged  to  venture  yet  more  daringly. 

"  But  will  the  x-party  testimony  to  be  good  in  the  prem 
ises  of  litigation?" 

"It  has  a  certain  standing,"  replied  the  lawyer,  com 
pelled  to  smile,  "and  if  other  testimony,  from  a  witness  pres 
ent,  or  witnesses  present,  in  court,  corroborating,  that  is, 
agreeing  with  it,  is  at  hand,  then  the  affidavit  is  that  much 
the  better.  But  alone  it  is  not  of  much  force." 

Mrs.  Guthrie  reflected  that  Amy  Turnbolt  could  supply 
the  personal  word  o'  mouth  testimony,  and  consequently 
determined,  after  this  brilliant  and  eminently  satisfactory 
skirmishing,  to  tell  what  she  knew. 

The  reader  is  almost  aware  of  that  which  Mrs.  Guthrie 
desired  to  have  put  into  a  "  writ  form." 

"  I  come,  Mr.  May,"  said  she,  "  to  tell  you,  under  my 
oath,  that  the  baby  which  fell  over  the  crag  and  was  killed, 
was  Oswald  Huron's  baby,  and  the  baby  alive  and  at  Cliff 
Hall  now,  is  Mr.  Neville  Huron's  own  child." 

We  will  not  stop  to  describe  the  surprise  of  Lawyer  May. 
Although  he  was  convinced  that  a  secret  of  some  sort  was 
between  the  nurses,  and  connected,  moreover,  with  the  de 
ceased  infant,  he  was  not  prepared  for  so  important  a  reve 
lation  as  that  just  made  to  him.  He  requested  Mrs.  Guth 
rie  to  proceed. 

"  There  is  little  more  to  tell  you  that  you  don't  already 
know,"  said  she.  "  Amy  and  me  walked  out  with  the 
children  in  our  arms,  and  took  a  seat  on  a  big  flat  rock 
which  I  used  to  sit  on  by  myself  with  the  baby  I  nursed 
before  Amy  come  to  Cliff  Hall,  which  is  the  same  baby 
as  is  now  dead,  and  when  we  went  to  get  up,  the  rock 
tilted  over  with  both  our  weights.  Amy  caught  by  a 
bush  and  saved  herself  and  the  baby  she  was  nursing." 

"  It  was  she,  then,  instead  of  you,  as  you  once  told  me  ?" 

"  Yes  ;  but  now  I  am  telling  you  the  truth.  Amy  saved 
herself  and  Mr.  Neville  Huron's  baby,  which  she  was  nurs 
ing,  and  it  was  me  that  was  falling  down  that  dreadful 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  37 

place,  and  had  to  let  go  Mr.  Oswald  Huron's  baby  to  save 
my  own  life,  and  it  fell  and  was  killed,  and  we  couldn't 
bring  it  away  because  we  couldn't  get  down  there  to  it. 
But  at  first  Amy  started  to  run  with  her  baby,  and  I  caught 
her  and  took  and  held  her,  and  begged  and  worked  and 
frighted  her  into  doing  what  I  contrapted  for  us  to  do 
about  the  babies ;  which  we  could  easy  do,  because  Oswald 
Huron  didn't  know  his  own  child  from  his  brother's,  and 
he  had  driv  off  his  old  servants,  or  more  belike  they  had 
left  him,  and  he  had  bought  him  some  niggers  which  were 
afraid  to  come  in  the  house,  and  nobody  knowed  the  babies 
apart  but  the  nurses,  and  you  wouldn't  have  knowed  them 
apart  yourself,  because  they  was  so  resembling,  and  such 
young  babies,  which  many  folks  can't  tell  one  from  an 
other  nohow  when  they  are  so  young,  and  dressed  just 
alike,  as  these  were,  and  their  names  were  identical  alike 
in  the  bargain,  and  they  had  lockets  around  their  necks, 
and  the  lockets  was  one  and  the  same." 

"  Could  you  and  the  other  nurse  absolutely  and  always 
distinguish  them  yourselves?" 

"  I  could  distinguish  them,  because  Mrs.  Oswald  Huron 
was  my  mistress,  and  the  child  was  born  almost  into  my 
hands,  and  my  poor  mistress  died  of  it,  and  I  raised  the 
baby,  and  knowed  it  as  I  would  my  own,  except  that  I 
never  had  one,  for  Mr.  Guthrie  died  the  very  night  we 
was  married,  poor  man." 

"  That  was  sudden  indeed,"  said  Lawyer  May,  who,  as 
business  was  not  pressing,  felt  willing  to  gratify  Mrs. 
Guthrie's  spirit  of  loquacity.  "  What  could  possibly  have 
put  an  end  to  his  life  at  so  happy  a  moment  ?" 

"  He  died  of  a  broken  back,"  said  Mrs.  Guthrie,  with  an 
expression  of  countenance  well  calculated  to  excite  sym 
pathy. 

"  A  broken  back  !  And  on  the  very  night  of  his  wed 
ding  ?  How  did  that  happen  ?" 

"  The  lads  had  sprung  a  Christmas-tree,  for  it  was  a 
Christmas-night,  and  they  sprung  it  out  in  the  yard,  and, 
after  the  maiden  name  had  been  taken  from  me  by  the  so 
lemnity  of  the  ceremony,  we  went  into  the  yard,  and  the 
tree  fell  down,  and  Mr.  Guthrie  wras  under  it,  and  his  back 
was  broke." 

4 


38  .  TEKEL, 

"  That  was  very  sad  indeed,"  said  Mr.  May,  who,  by- 
the-way,  was  a  widower  with  one  little  boy  ;  "  but  we  must 
now  return  to  the  business  in  hand.  Could  Amy  Turn- 
bolt  distinguish  the  children  with  certainty  ?" 

"  Not  till  she  had  been  nursing  for  two  or  three  days. 
But  she  soon  learned  her  baby,  for  it  was  the  sweetest  and 
the  least  of  trouble." 

"  What  were  the  distinguishing  marks, — the  difference, 
between  them."  • 

"They  was  not  marked  at  all;  but  Neville  Huron's  baby 
had  the  superiority  somewhat  over  the  other  one,  and  its 
eyes  were  a  little  darker,  and  its  hair  was  the  least  bit 
given  to  curl,  and  it  was  the  brightest  and  the  lovingest, 
and  we  called  it  Coy,  and  we  called  the  other  one  Glenny." 

"  What  were  the  names  of  the  infants?  If  I  ever  knew 
I've  forgotten." 

"  The  living  and  the  dead  was  both  named  Cora  Glen- 
coe." 

"  Cora  Glencoe  Huron,"  said  the  lawyer,  taking  down  the 
name  on  a  slip  of  paper.  "  What  was  your  purpose  in 
deceiving  the  Hurons  ?" 

"  It  wasn't  that  I  wanted  to  deceive  them,  specially  Mr. 
Neville  Huron,  but  he  was  away,  and  Mr.  Oswald  Huron 
was  the  one  I  had  to  meet,  and  he'd  a'  cut  my  throat  if  I 
had  gone  and  told  him  that  Glenny,  his  own  child,  had 
met  its  death  by  me,  which  he  came  near  to  doing  anyhow 
when  I  took  and  told  him  that  it  was  his  brother's  baby  as 
was  dead.  But  I  didn't  never  mean  for  it  to  stand  this 
way  no  longer  than  I  could  make  interest  with  my  people 
in  the  oif  districts  of  this  State  where  I  am  going  to  make 
my  livelihood,  and  I  come  to  you  to  set  it  all  to  rights  be 
fore  I  go.;  and  if  Oswald  Huron  or  his  officers  or  his  hounds 
comes  after  me,  my  folks  are  not  the  particularest  in  the 
world,  and  they  will  send  him  and  his  back  to  Creswood 
with  the  splinters  of  shillaly  in  the  jowls  of  them.  And 
I've  told  Amy  Turnbolt  to  make  the  affidavit  of  the  same 
before  her  uncle,  Captain  Gale,  and  you  and  him  can  legal 
ize  the  child's  pedigree  and  'heritance  of  its  father  and 
mother.  And  this  is  the  truth,  under  oath,  so  help  me 
God,  and  on  the  cross." 

"  Mrs.  Guthrie,"  said  the  lawyer,  when  that  prolix  de- 


OR   CORA   GLENCOE,  39 

ponent  had  finished  what  she  mainly  had  to  say,  "  ran  I 
not  prevail  upon  you  to  make  this  affidavit  within  the 
knowledge  of  some  other  person  chosen  by  you  ?" 

"No,  sir." 

"  But  you  don't  see  the  difficulty.  Oswald  Huron  is 
my  enemy.  He  imagines  that  I  would  do  anything  with 
in  my  power  to  injure  or  annoy  him.  Others  may  ima 
gine  the  same.  I  defended  you  in  connection  with  these 
infants.  I  must  now  undertake  to  undo,  in  part,  what  I 
have  heretofore  done.  I  must  contradict  myself,  and  not 
withstanding  I  am  willing  to  submit  to  the  chagrin  in 
order  to  correct  this  vital  wrong,  it  will  put  the  case,  in 
my  hands,  at  a  very  great  disadvantage.  Oswald  Huron 
will  take  the  ground  that  I  am  his  enemy,  and  that  you 
are  his  enemy,  and  that  for  vindictive  purposes  we  have 
concocted  a  scheme  to  rob  him  of  his  child.  The  ground 
will  be  plausible  both  before  the  people  and  the  court  to 
which  he  will  appeal,  for  Heaven  knows  he  has  given  us 
both  cause  for  enmity.  Could  you  not  go  before  Mr. 
Hope,  the  minister,  and  a  most  excellent  man  ?" 

"  No,  sir.  I  am  a  Catholic,  and  he  would  not  believe  me 
for  a  word." 

"  I  am  satisfied  you  are  mistaken,"  said  Mr.  May. 

"  There  is  but  one  other  man  alive  that  I  will  give  tes 
timony  to." 

"  Who  is  he  ?" 

"  Captain  Gale,  who  is  a  man  of  his  word  and  bond." 

"  That  is  very  unfortunate,"  observed  Lawyer  May. 
"  Captain  Gale's  disabilities  in  this  particular  are  similar 
to  my  own." 

"  And  my  disabilities  are  much  more  similar,"  said  Mrs. 
Guthrie;  "for  if  Oswald  Huron  had  his  choice,  of  all  the 
heads  in  Creswood  he  would  break  mine  first.  So  I  must 
look  out  for  myself  as  well  as  right  the  wrong,  for  who  is 
to  look  for  me  ?  I  give  you  my  affidavit,  and  it's  riot  likely 
I'd  swear  myself  into  this  if  the  truth  was  not  in  it,  and 
my  conscience  not  in  it.  Then  I  go  away  for  good  rea 
sons  as  witnessed  in  the  affidavit.  Then  there's  Amy 
Turnbolt.  She  can  stanchify  the  witnessing  of  my  affida 
vit,  and  of  her  own,  and  give  her  own  word  o'  mouth  wit 
nessing,  herself,  if  the  fact-justice  is  ever  brought  into  the 


40  TEKEL, 

appeal  of  a  court,  which  it  will  be,  because  that  hyena  of 
a  Oswald  Huron  would  claim  even  a  skunk  kitten  as  his 
own,  and  battle  with  the  old  skunk  for  it,  if  he  took  a 
notion  to, — durn  him !" 

The  last  two  words  of  Mrs.  Guthrie  were  spoken  in  a 
low,  emphatic  tone,  and  to  herself. 

The  lawyer  drew  up  an  affidavit,  not  qualified  by  the 
clause,  "  to  the  best  of  my  knowledge  and  belief,"  but  di 
rect  and  positive.  He  appended  the  customary  certificate 
of  an  officiating  magistrate,  and,  with  Mrs.  Guthrie,  pro 
ceeded  to  'Squire  Shaw's,  the  nearest  authority.  On  their 
way,  Mrs.  Guthrie  somewhat  cattishly  said, — 

"  If  'Squire  Shaw  goes  to  reading  of  it,  I'll  jerk  it  away 
from  him  and  tear  it  up." 

"  In  all  probability  he  will  not  care  to  read  it,  and  in  any 
event  I  shall  see  that  he  does  not.  He  has  nothing  to  do 
but  administer  the  oath,  see  you  sign,  and  sign  himself." 

Mrs.  Guthrie,  having  succeeded  to  her  satisfaction  in 
getting  her  secret  into  a  "  writ  form,"  left  Creswood  and 
went  among  her  friends  and  relatives  in  a  settlement  many 
miles  distant  from  her  late  home. 

When  the  Whitecap  again  rode  in  the  little  bay  at  the 
rear  of  Gale  Island,  Amy  Turnbolt  did  pretty  much  as 
Mrs.  Guthrie  had  done,  and  Captain  Gale  followed  pretty 
well  the  example  of  Lawyer  May.  In  everything  which 
appertained  to  the  law  and  its  administration  Captain 
Gale  was  methodical  and  exact,  and  the  document  which 
he  drew  up  from  Amy  Turnbolt's  word  o'  mouth,  setting 
forth  the  "  fact-justice"  of  the  Huron  family  complications, 
was  in  all  respects  the  compeer  of  that  which  was  in  pos 
session  of  Lawyer  May. 

Although  these  affidavits  were  not  first-class  testimony, 
they  were  better  than  nothing  in  the  event  of  an  accident, 
such  as  the  death  or  disappearance  of  one  or  both  of  the 
affiants.  In  those  days,  communication  was  by  no  means 
advanced  to  its  present  activity  and  universality,  and  a 
person  might  easily  step  aside  and  never  be  heard  of  more. 

"Amy,"  said  Captain  Gale,  "I  am  surprised  that  you 
have  been  able  to  keep  this  matter  so  absolutely  to  your 
self.  You  did  wrong  to  practice  deception  in  the  first  place, 
but,  having  done  so,  you  were  wise  not  to  gad  it  about. 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  41 

Now  that  Maria  Guthrie  has  gone,  you  will  never  rest 
until  you  make  a  confidant  of  some  other  woman.  There 
fore  you  bad  better  tell  Sallie  all  about  it,  and  whenever 
you  feel  like  talking  it  over,  you  can  do  so  with  her  to  your 
heart's  content.  But  if,  by  your  indiscretion,  this  secret 
gets  wind  before  the  proper  time,  it  will  be  the  worse  for 
you,  I  can  assure  you." 

Captain  Gale  proved  himself  a  good  womanier,  by  at 
once  providing  Amy  with  a  confidant,  and  adding  fear  to 
discretion  as  a  more  potent  motive  for  secrecy. 

Although  Lawyer  May  and  Captain  Gale  were  devoted 
to  that  justice,  order,  and  legitimacy  which  are  so  comely 
in  the  sight  of  good  men,  they  were  constrained  to  hold 
their  peace  for  the  present,  notwithstanding  it  involved  a 
vital  and  accomplished  fraud  upon  the  Huron  parents  and 
the  infant  Cora  Glencoe.  Oswald  Huron  himself,  by  his 
inveteracy  and  malignancy,  put  it  out  of  their  power  to 
correct  the  false  state  of  his  family  relations.  He  had  de 
clared  war,  and  waged  it,  and  was  yet  waging  it,  upon  the 
lawyer,  the  mariner,  and  upon  each  of  the  nurses  severally; 
and  when  his  animosity  was  fixed  it  was  more  savage  and 
tenacious  than  the  teeth  of  a  bull-dog.  Of  what  avail,  then, 
would  it  be  for  them,  or  either  of  them,  to  attempt  to  con 
vince  him  that  the  infant  now  in  his  possession  was  the  off 
spring  of  his  brother?  He  would  deride  the  evidence,  and 
spit  in  the  faces  of  his  enemies.  He  would  declare  it  a  vin 
dictive  conspiracy  to  rob  him  of  his  child.  He  would  prose 
cute  them  one  and  all,  wherever  he  could  reach  them,  with 
more  than  his  accustomed  vehemence.  Also,  it  would 
create  a  most  lamentable  condition  of  uncertainty  in  the 
family  of  Neville  Huron ;  it  would  lead  to  a  wretched 
wrangling  between  the  Huron  brothers ;  and,  in  the  popu 
lar  eye,  disinherit  the  child  for  life  of  an  indisputable  and 
absolute  lineage. 

Lawyer  May  and  Captain  Gale  appreciated  the  difficulties 
and  perplexities  which  would  accompany  an  effort  to  do 
the  duty  which  had  been  delegated  to  them,  or,  more  prop 
erly,  thrust  upon  them.  They  consulted  each  other,  as 
men  and  women  will  do,  knowing  in  advance  that  an  inter 
change  of  views  would  amount  to  no  more  than  an  ex 
change  of  words.  Lawyer  May  said  to  Captain  Gale, — 

4* 


42  TEKEL; 

"At  the  present  time,  an  attempt  would  be  futile.  Be 
fore  this  community  we  have  stood  in  behalf  of  these 
nurses,  and  brought  them  successfully  out  of  a  disagreeable 
and  bitterly-conducted  investigation,  the  inside  merits  of 
which  we  were  unquestionably  presumed  to  be  fully  ad 
vised  of.  Popularly,  this  matter  is  considered  judicially  and 
thoroughly  sifted,  and  done  with  for  all  time.  We  so 
considered  it  ourselves.  And  now,  of  all  men  in  the  world, 
for  you  and  myself  to  disentomb  this  calamity  and  cause  it 
to  resurrect*  with  a  different  face  and  habiliments, — for  you 
and  myself  to  attempt  to  prove  by  the  very  nurses  them 
selves  an  apparently  new-hatched*  state  of 'fact-justice,' — 
to  quote  from  Mrs.  Guthrie,  and,  by-the-way,  it's  not  a  bad 
expression,"  said  the  lawyer,  smiling, — "would  be  no  whit 
short  of  absolutely  ridiculous,  as  well  as,  prima  facie,  a 
crime,  a  concocted  crime.  I  should  be  set  down  for  a  knave, 
and  you  for  a  fool,  or  vice  versa,  and  we  should  meet  with 
no  greater  success  than  the  hootings  of  an  indignant  or 
jocose  community  might  signify." 

Lawyer  May  closed  his  last  sentence  with  a  smile  as 
jocose  as  might  have  been  the  community  under  the  cir 
cumstances  referred  to.  Captain  Gale  observed, — 

"An  attempt  now  would  make  reasonable  any  charges 
which  Oswald  Huron  might  shrewdly  bring  against  us." 

"Any  which  he  would  undoubtedly  bring,"  interrupted 
the  lawyer,  not,  as  is  the  professional  custom,  refraining 
from  a  positive  and  unqualified  assertion  which  is  based 
upon  opinion  merely. 

"And,"  continued  Captain  Gale,  "however  stubbornly 
we  might  hurl  the  truth  into  people's  ears,  just  so  stub 
bornly  would  they  spew  it  out  of  their  mouths." 

"I  readily  recognized  the  exceptional  difficulties,  not 
only  surrounding  this  case,  but  imbedded  in  it,  and  the 
more  I  reflect  upon  it,  the  more  I  am  disposed  to  think  that 
ingenuity  itself  could  not  have  contrived  a  more  unfortu 
nate  and  unhandy  situation.  Perhaps  you  can  suggest 
something  feasible  ?  I  myself  have  nothing  to  propose 
just  now  except  to  watch  and  wait." 

"  It's  a  dark  watch,  let  the  outlook  be  from  bow  or  stern," 

*  Not  to  be  found  in  Webster. 


OR   CORA    OLENCOE.  43 

said  Captain  Gale,  renewing  his  quid  of  tobacco.  "  One 
thing-  is  evident:  we  are  becalmed,  and  there's  no  help  for 
it  but  to  bring  on  a  storm,  which  can  only  result  in  a  furi 
ous  collision  fore  and  aft,  weather  and  lee,  and  probable 
shipwreck  to  the  future  of  the  infant." 

"  I'm  told  it's  a  very  sweet  little  thing,"  said  Lawyer 
May ;  "  and  if  it  should  so  happen  that  Oswald  Huron  shall 
be  it's  lifelong  father,  it  will  be  one  of  those  inscrutable 
Providences  which  make  men  reject  the  idea  of  divine  su 
pervision.  If  it  were  Oswald  Huron's  child  which  had  got 
mismatched  with  his  brother  Neville,  I  believe  I  could  con 
scientiously  and- forever  hold  my  peace." 

"  I  can  hardly  use  such  strong  language  as  that,"  said 
the  law-and-order  captain ;  "though  the  child's  future  pros 
pects  would  certainly  forbid  an  interposition  if  the  case  was 
reversed.  It's  a  pity  you  could  not  prevail  upon  Mrs.  Guth- 
rie  to  go  to  Mr.  Hope.  Amy  might  go  to  him,  or  to  any 
body,  and  make  an  open  question  of  it,  but  it  would  rebound 
upon  me  in  the  end,  as  the  instigator,  and  do  the  cause  no 
good ;  whereas  Mrs.  Guthrie  was  not,  and  is  not,  supposed 
to  be  at  the  command  or  instance  of  any  particular  person." 

"And  the  trouble  is,  there  are  no  visible  prospects  for  a 
change.  This  matter,  I'm  afraid,  will  vex  us  for  a  long  time, 
like  an  impatient  and  knotty  problem  on  our  files  of  unfin 
ished  business ;"  and  the  lawyer  took  a  pinch  of  snuff. 

"Unless  some  person,  less  patient  with  Oswald  Huron 
than  you  or  I,  should  blow  out  his  brains,"  suggested  the 
captain. 

"  He  does  not  fail  to  afford  opportunities  for  such  a  sequel, 
and  he  little  knows  how  near  to  doom  he  has  ventured  at 
more  times  than  one ;"  and  the  lawyer's  face  grew  stern 
with  the  memory  of  repeated  insults.  "But,  Gale,"  he 
smilingly  continued,  "you  are  a  strongman  in  this  commu 
nity.  I  was,  until  the  public  insults  of  Oswald  Huron,  and 
my  quiet  submission  to  them,  robbed  me  of  my  character 
as  a  person  of  backbone.  I  may,  however,  take  occasion 
to  resume  my  lumbar  vertebrae,  and  if  we  only  keep  our 
selves  on  strict  watch,  we  may  find  an  opportunity  yet  of 
breaking  the  force  of  circumstances." 

"  The  man's  own  colossal  unpopularity  would  aid  us," 
said  Captain  Gale ;  "  but  the  deil  of  it  is  that  everybody 
seems  to  fear  him  as  well  as  hate  him." 


44  TEKEL, 

From  several  observations,  similar  to  the  one  just  made, 
Lawyer  May  felt  faintly  that  Captain  Gale  connected  him 
with  those  who  feared  Oswald  Huron,  and  was  delicately 
hinting  that  it  was  time  for  him  to  assert  his  manhood. 
Although  nothing  was  further  from  Captain  Gale's 
thoughts,  it  nevertheless  had  its  effect  upon  the  lawyer. 

After  conversing  awhile  upon  wind  and  weather,  politics 
and  policy,  the  two  gentlemen  shook  hands  cordially,  and 
Captain  Gale  went  his  way. 


CHAPTER    Y. 

MOST  able  lawyers  are  men  of  courage  and  fortitude. 
They  are  also,  by  the  nature  of  their  profession,  educated 
to  great  self-control.  Much  reciprocal  tongue-lashing  su 
perinduces  in  their  behalf  thick  skins  and  short  memories. 
They  are  not  apt  at  taking  offense  for  slight  causes,  but, 
with  keen  repartee,  launch  from  the  mouth  instead  of  the 
shoulder  or  the  pistol  tube.  They  have  too  many  quar 
rels  to  make,  and  battles  to  fight,  for  others,  and  for  which 
espousals  they  are  well  paid,  to  allow  of  either  inclination 
or  leisure  for  getting  into  non-paying  quarrels  of  their  own. 
Physical  arbitrament  they  regard  as  unintellectual,  and 
broken  heads  and  lodged  bullets  as  not  the  proper  mode. 
But,  as  we  once  heard  of  a  very  worthy  parson,  who,  in 
the  midst  of  a  discourse  suggested  by  the  words  of  the 
Divine  Herald,  "  Peace  on  earth  and  good  will  to  men," — 
left  his  pulpit,  went  down  into  his  congregation,  and 
trounced  a  disturbing  element  there :  so  we  occasionally 
hear  of  a  lawyer  and  counselor  who  abandons  his  neigh 
bor's  feud  to  settle  one  of  his  own ;  postponing,  perhaps, 
the  prosecution  of  a  manslayer  to  go  out  and  slay  a  man 
himself,  or — get  slain. 

Lawyer  May  was  an  able  lawyer.  He  was  also  a  man 
of  courage  and  great  self-restraint.  Oswald  Huron,  im 
placable,  and  growing  more  aggressive  as  he  grew  older, 
had  recently  insulted  Lawyer  May  frequently ;  in  fact, 


OR   CORA    OLENCOE.  45 

about  as  often  as  he  met  him.  Mr.  May  had  no  family 
except  a  little  son  six  years  of  age.  Once  a  wealthy  man, 
he  had  just  emerged  from  innumerable  financial  difficul 
ties,  the  result  of  faults  not  his  own,  with  little  else  save 
his  honor.  Had  it  not  been  for  the  wish  to  retrieve  his 
fortunes,  chiefly  for  the  sake  of  his  little  boy,  a  child  of 
promising  intelligence  and  future,  he  would  have  risked  a 
personal  and  extreme  issue  with  Oswald  Huron  before  the 
insults  of  the  latter  had  been  so  many  times  repeated.  He 
knew  that  the  community  did  not  appreciate  the  influence 
which  caused  him  to  avoid  a  difficulty  with  this  intemper 
ate  man,  and  one  which,  should  it  occur,  would  be  a  deadly 
one  ;  and  he  was  acutely  sensible  of  a  diminution  of  re 
spect  for  himself  among  his  neighbors,  who  were  well 
aware  that  Oswald  Huron  almost  spat  in  his  face  when 
ever  it  was  convenient.  The  question  would  often  force 
itself  upon  his  attention,  whether  it  was  better  to  take  the 
risk  of  leaving  his  boy  unprotected  and  unprovided  for,  or 
to  forego  the  risk  and  continue  to  live  in  disgrace  with  his 
neighbors,  with  himself,  and  probably  with  his  own  child, 
who  was  a  spirited  little  fellow.  He  had  not  been  able  to 
decide  until  events  decided  for  him.  One  pleasant  after 
noon  he  was  walking  on  the  Larboard  Strand,  accom 
panied  by  his  boy,  whose  name  was  Carroll.  Turning  an 
angle  of  the  Tarpeian  Rock  he  suddenly  encountered 
Oswald  Huron.  The  latter  halted  and  stood  in  the  imme 
diate  pathway  of  Lawyer  May.  Oswald  Huron  was  a  tall, 
muscular,  dark-eyed,  olive-faced  man,  slightly  stoop-shoul 
dered,  and  with  long  black  hair  which  swept  his  shoulders. 
His  beard  was  flowing  and  black,  and  concealed  his  white 
shirt-bosom.  His  countenance  was  highly  intellectual, 
and,  when  at  rest,  was  not  unhandsome,  but  the  least 
activity  of  his  strange  volcanic  soul  perverted  it  from  its 
normal  fine  stamp  and  expression. 

He  sneered  at  Lawyer  May,  who  stood  and  regarded  him 
calmly,  though  with  feelings  akin  to  those  which  one  might 
feel  on  meeting  some  uncertain  beast  or  more  uncertain 
lunatic.  He  then  addressed  some  offensive  language  to 
the  lawyer.  The  latter,  still  calm,  replied, — 

"  Mr.  Huron,  your  conduct  toward  me  has  been,  and 
is,  very  strange  and  entirely  unprovoked,  and  I  fail  to  con- 


46  TEKEL, 

ceive  in  what  respect  it  can  gratify  you.  Let  me  again 
beseech  you  never  to  address  me." 

Oswald  Huron,  who  had  provided  himself  with  another 
cane  in  the  stead  of  that  which  Captain  Gale  had  taken 
away  from  him  at  the  store  of  Mr.  Nutt,  raised  his  stick, 
leant  forward,  and  struck  Lawyer  May  a  light  blow  upon 
the  shoulder.  Then,  still  leaning  forward,  his  countenance, 
working  between  a  grin  and  a  frown,  expressed  a  devilish 
challenge,  as  to  say, — 

"  Resent  it  if  you  dare." 

Little  Carroll  May,  for  the  first  time  and  with  indig 
nant  wonder,  saw  his  father  insulted.  He  picked  up  a 
pebble,  and,  throwing  it,  struck  Oswald  Huron  in  the  eye. 
The  missile,  though  small  and  light,  caused  for  the  moment 
a  distracting  pain,  which  gave  Lawyer  May  an  opportu 
nity  of  taking  his  son  by  the  hand  and  walking  away. 

"Father,"  asked  the  child,  still  wondering,  "  why  didn't 
you  whip  him  ?" 

"Hush,  Carroll,"  said  the  father,  whose  soul  writhed  be 
neath  the  wondering  eyes  of  his  boy  as  it  had  never  done 
before  the  slights  of  his  neighbors  or  the  insults  of  his  foe. 
He  must  banish  that  look  of  wonder,  lest  it  should  change 
to  one  of  contempt,  or  he  must  die  upon  the  effort. 

Lawyer  May,  with  livid  cheek,  walked  slowly  down 
toward  Gale  Island.  Said  he  to  himself,  "  Dueling  is  a 
practice  which,  heretofore,  I  have  neither  condemned  nor 
justified;  or,  in  other  words,  which  I  have  condemned  or 
justified,  according  to  the  features  of  each  particular  of  that 
practice.  As  a  common  resort  it  is  heartless,  lamentable, 
or  farcical,  and  should  be  discouraged  by  public  sentiment, 
as  it  is  by  legislative  penalty.  And  yet  law-giving  nations 
themselves  resort  to  it.  On  a  point  of  honor  Troy  fell, 
and  Greece  depleted  her  strength.  Hector  slew  thousands, 
Achilles  slew  Hector,  and  Paris  slew  Achilles.  Romulus 
killed  Remus  for  dishonoring  his  walls,  and  Cicero  preached 
'delenda  est  Carthago1  continually,  for  the  honor  of  Rome. 
Christians  wage  war  to  uphold  the  Prince  of  Peace,  and 
the  Saracen  carves  'Mohammed'  upon  the  shaft  of  his  lance. 
Nations  are  insulted,  exchange  notes,  become  irreconcila 
ble,  rouse  their  sluggish,  ponderous  hearts,  and  rush  to 
battle.  International  obligations  are  sent  upon  the  wind, 


OR   CORA    GLEN  CO  E.  47 

ditches  receive  the  slain,  brooks  and  rivers  bear  off  the 
blood,  the  fate  of  brave  thousands  is  settled,  but  the  point 
of  honor  is  still  a  festering  thorn.  In  the  face  of  such 
mighty  examples,  can  an  individual  disdain  to  feel  when 
an  acute  point  pricks  him  ?  Can  an  individual  man,  more 
full  of  heart  and  heat  proportionably  than  is  a  nation,  re 
frain  from  breaking  the  laws  of  law-breaking  legislators? 
Can  a  Gentile  be  better  than  a  Jew,  or  a  Pagan  more  hum 
ble  than  a  Christian?  Can  he  who  acknowledges  weak 
ness  be  more  stanch  than  he  who  professes  strength? 
Can  men  fail  to  revolt  when  nations  plunge  headlong  into 
revolution  ?  Laws  are  not  presumed  to  be  for  glory  or  for 
farce,  but  for  protection  and  redress.  But  there  are  some 
peculiar  instances  of  wrong  for  which  the  laws  are  as  the 
lame,  the  halt,  and  the  blind.  The  philosophy  of  motion 
would  probably  be  as  easy  to  practice  as  to  theorize  but 
for  the  resistance  of  the  atmosphere  and  the  impediment  of 
friction.  So  is  it  with  statutes,  which  operate  in  a  dense 
atmosphere  of  human  passions,  and  encounter  a  gumlike 
friction  of  ignorance  or  corruption.  The  sly  or  vindictive 
encroachments  of  a  respectable  villain  upon  the  purity  of  a 
woman's  name  or  the  standing  of  a  man's  character,  are 
among  that  class  of  subtle  wrongs  with  which  the  law  is 
too  clumsy  to  grapple ;  and  the  injured  will  be  injured  still, 
unless  the  individual  arm  is  bared  for  redress.  Oswald 
Huron  does  not  wound  my  body ;  for  if  he  did,  I  could 
shoot  him  within  the  law.  But  he  does  lacerate  my  spirit, 
which  is  as  much  more  sensitive  than  the  body,  as  it  is 
more  ethereal.  And  yet  I  can  neither  bind  him  to  desist, 
nor  redress  myself,  unless  I  break  the  laws  of  lumberheaded 
legislators.  I  might  sue  him;  he  would  pay  the  insignifi 
cant  fine  out  of  his  large  means,  and  taunt  me  even  while 
paying  it.  ]f  he  should  knock  me  down,  or  cut  or  shoot 
my  flesh,  I  alone  would  feel  the  pain.  But  he  puts  a  lep 
rosy  upon  me,  the  leprosy  of  disgrace  and  dishonor,  which 
does  not  confine  itself  to  me  alone,  but  spreads  through  all 
the  ramifications  of  kinship,  and  descends  to  my  boy,  carry 
ing  its  venom.  He  has  even  now  brought  me  into  wonder 
and  disrepute  with  my  own  child.  I  am  not  physically 
able  to  break  his  head,  or  cane  him  into  the  proprieties  of 
life.  But  there  is  a  leveler  that  I  know  of  which,  at 


48  TEKEL, 

twenty  paces  or  less,  overcomes  the  inequalities  of  physical 
strength  and  malignancy  of  spirit,  and  as  often  as  not  gives 
the  battle  to  the  weak." 

Thus  continued  Lawyer  May  to  think,  not  with  his 
wonted  consecutiveness,  for  he  felt  outraged  and  stern,  and 
barely  succeeded  in  smothering  his  agitation  before  he 
hailed  for  the  ferry-skiff  at  Gale  Island. 

Captain  Gale  sculled  over  the  water  and  returned  to  the 
Whitecap  with  his  visitors.  The  mariner  was  fixing  about 
his  rigging  and  preparing  to  sail  the  ensuing  night,  for  the 
wind  was  in  the  right  quarter  to  send  him  out  to  sea,  and 
the  moon  promised  to  be  fair  and  the  skies  serene.  He 
was  about  to  lead  his  visitors  to  the  cottage,  when  Lawyer 
May  observed, — 

"  Captain  Gale,  I  have  but  a  few  moments  to  remain 
here,  and  would  prefer  seeing  you  on  board,"  and  the  law 
yer  made  a  gesture  toward  the  Whitecap. 

"  You  are  welcome  to  cabin  or  cottage,"  said  Captain 
Gale,  who  conducted  his  visitors  to  the  vessel,  and  offered 
bunks  for  seats. 

"  You  appear  to  be  getting  ready  for  a  cruise,"  observed 
the  lawyer. 

"I -go  out  to-night,"  was  the  response. 

"  I  am  sorry  for  that.  I  wanted  you  to  come  up  to  my 
house  for  an  hour  or  so." 

Captain  Gale  was  sagacious  enough  not  to  take  or  pre 
tend  to  take  this  as  a  social  invitation. 

"  If  there  is  anything  of  importance,"  he  replied,  "  or  if 
I  can  be  of  any  service  to  you,  I  will  spare  the  time,  Mr. 
May,  and  not  miss  it." 

"  It  is  a  thing  of  importance,  and  I  shall  feel  deeply 
obliged  to  you.  To  economize  your  time,  I  propose  we 
go  now,  take  tea  at  my  house,  and  proceed  without  delay 
to  the  matter  in  hand." 

"  I'll  first  advise  my  wife,"  said  the  thoughtful  captain  ; 
"  but  won't  you  come  into  the  cottage  and  sit  a  moment  ?" 

"No,  captain,  I  thank  you.     I  will  await  you  here." 

The  lawyer's  residence  was  about  a  mile  distant  from 
the  island,  up  the  Larboard  Strand,  situated  on  a  bluff,  in 
view  of  the  ocean,  and  not  very  far  from  Cliff  Hall. 

Within  a  reasonable  length  of  time,  and  after  tea,  Law- 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  49 

yer  May  was  busily  writing  in  his  office,  with  a  very  grave 
though  placid  face,  and  Captain  Gale  was  quietly  waiting. 
Having  folded  several  newly  written  documents,  and  di 
rected  them,  the  lawyer  turned  to  Captain  Gale  and  said, — 

"  Captain  Gale,  you  are  one  of  the  few  men  of  my  ac 
quaintance  whom  I  consider  thoroughly  honest  and  thor 
oughly  reliable." 

The  captain,  taken  unexpectedly  between  wind  and 
water,  bowed,  not  without  grace,  and  replied, — 

"  Mr.  May,  I  am  gratified  to  be  able  conscientiously  to 
return  a  compliment  which  I  hope  is  as  near  the  truth  as  I 
believe  it  to  be  sincere.  No  man  is  reliable  unless  he  is 
honest,  and  many  a  man  may  be  honest  and  yet  not  be 
reliable,"  added  the  ethical  captain. 

"  I  agree  with  you,"  said  the  lawyer,  "  and,  without 
more  ado,  come  to  the  pith.  You  are  probably  aware  that 
Oswald  Huron  makes  a  pastime  of  insulting  me.  To-day 
he  repeated  his  insults,  without  provocation  and  in  a  man 
ner  so  gross  that  even  my  little  boy,  almost  a  suckling, 
attacked  him  in  my  defense.  Longer  to  suffer  this  would 
be  to  lose  my  self-respect,  as  I  have  already,  in  a  measure, 
lost  the  respect  of  my  neighbors.  The  quick  has  been 
reached,  Captain  Gale,  and  without  making  use  of  plainer 
language,  you  may,  and  doubtless  do,  divine  what  my  in 
tentions  are.  I  will  only  say  that  my  resolution  is  fixed, 
and  that  it  will  be  useless  for  you  to  consume  the  few  mo 
ments  which  you  have  to  spare  in  endeavoring  to  alter  or 
modify  it.  I  refer  to  this,  not  to  involve  you,  but  as  an  in 
troduction  to  the  request  which  our  past  friendship  en 
courages  me  to  make  of  you.  My  little  boy  may  be  left 
without  protection.  If  so,  may  I  have  your  promise  that 
you  will  send  him  to  the  person  and  place  which  you  see 
indorsed  on  this  package,  and  send  the  package  with  him  ? 
I  have  left  no  will.  It  is  not  necessary  to  make  a  will,  for 
my  estate,  as  you  know,  is  in  its  second  infancy.  Here  is 
another  package.  It  contains  the  affidavit  of  Maria  Guth- 
rie  relative  to  that  unfortunate  exchange  of  infants.  With 
it  I  have  inclosed  a  statement  of  my  own.  At  some  more 
fitting  time  you  may  be  able  to  restore  the  child,  Cora 
Glencoe,  to  the  true  parents.  These  packages  I  will  give 


50  TEKEL, 

to  you  now,  if  you  have  decided  to  favor  me  by  taking 
charge  of  them." 

"  Jt  is  a  small  favor  you  have  asked  of  me,  Mr.  May. 
It  shall  be  willingly  done  if  necessary,  which  I  hope  will 
not  be  the  case.  I  only  regret  that  the  favor,  if  it  may  be 
so  termed,  is  not  greater." 

"  Captain  Gale,  I  thank  you  heartily.  I  will  not  longer 
detain  you  from  your  vessel,  for  I  know  in  what  manner 
prudent  sailors  rate  fair  weather  and  fortunate  wind.  Good- 
by,  and  may  you  never  feel  what  I,  for  my  child's  sake, 
feel  at  this  moment." 

Within  two  hours  of  the  time  at  which  Captain  Gale 
took  his  departure  from  the  lawyer's  office,  Oswald  Huron 
received  from  Lawyer  May  an  unconditional  challenge  to 
mortal  combat.  It  was  accepted,  and  by  daylight  in  the 
morning  the  parties,  with  their  seconds,  were  on  their  way 
to  the  selected  ground,  which  was  one  among  the  secluded 
spots  in  the  depths  of  Creswood. 

When  Captain  Gale  returned  from  his  interview  with 
the  lawyer,  to  the  island,  instead  of  going  into  his  cottage 
he  went  aboard  of  the  Whitecap,  lighted  a  lamp,  kindled 
a  fire  in  the  little  cabin  stove,  picked  up  a  pipe,  sat  down, 
and  deliberated  while  he  smoked.  Creswood,  thought  he, 
once  so  quiet  and  uneventful,  was  getting  into  notoriety ; 
and  before  many  hours,  he  imagined,  the  neighborhood 
would  be  astir  and  aghast  at  the  terrible  news  of  tragedy, 
for  he  was  satisfied  that  deadly  issue  was  near  at  hand 
in  which  an  implacable  and  domineering  foe  was  to  be  met 
by  aroused  and  dauntless  gentleman,  who,  against  his  con 
science  perhaps,  was  impelled  to  risk  life  in  order  to  make 
life  tolerable. 

Captain  Gale  well  enough  understood,  first  the  forbear 
ance,  next  the  irresistible  promptings  of  Mr.  May.  He 
sympathized  with  the  gentlemanly  and  gracious  lawyer, 
regarding  him  as  a  man  of  strict  integrity,  commendable 
pride,  and  strong  feeling,  who  had  been  unmercifully  and 
wantonly  harassed  by  a  neighborhood  tyrant.  He  also 
sympathized  with  him  as  one  who  had,  by  fortitude  and 
unrelaxing  effort,  emerged,  penniless  it  is  true,  but  hopeful, 
untarnished,  and  respected,  from  many  and  weighty  diffi 
culties,  only  to  be  pressed  and  driven  into  a  yet  more  seri- 


OR   CORA    OLENCOE.  51 

ous  and  exceptional  position  hedged  by  danger  and  irre 
trievable  disaster. 

Voluntarily  to  transgress  the  law  and  nullify  it,  or  vol 
untarily  to  permit  it  to  be  transgressed  and  nullified,  was, 
in  the  estimation  of  Captain  Gale,  as  portentous  of  ultimate 
evil  to  the  public  weal,  as  the  violation  of  the  sailor's  Black 
Oath  was  prophetic  of  doom  to  the  perjured.  There  are 
many  crimes  which,  like  the  far-speaking  thunder  peal,  or 
the  music  of  the  thrilling  wind-harp,  can  neither  be  written 
or  defined,  and  in  view  of  which  there  is,  consequently,  no 
statutory  provision.  No  one  condemned  such  crimes  more 
heartily  than  Captain  Gale ;  and  yet,  in  a  commonwealth 
point  of  view,  he  considered  the  commission  of  these  un- 
namable  and  indefinable  transgressions,  one  and  all,  as 
less  hurtful  than  the  lightest  breach  of  political  standard 
law.  The  former  was  but  the  plucking  of  a  single  fruit 
bloom ;  the  latter  was  a  vital  hacking  at  the  roots  of  the 
tree.  The  one  might  puncture  an  individual;  but  the 
other  wrenched  a  bolt  from  the  gates  of  the  public  ram 
parts. 

Captain  Gale  put  away  his  pipe,  took  down  a  tin  bugle, 
stepped  out  on  deck,  and  blew  a  blast  which  rioted  among 
the  hills  of  Creswood  in  ten  thousand  echoes.  Fifteen 
minutes  passed,  when  four  men,  his  crew,  hailed  him  from 
across  the  bay.  With  a  skiff  he  brought  them  over  to  the 
Whitecap. 

"Boys,  be  lively  now!  stow  these  packages,  and  get 
ready  to  work  her  out." 

He  then  went  into  the  cottage,  where,  between  himself 
and  Mrs.  Gale,  a  consultation  ensued.  Emerging  from  his 
cottage,  he  walked  if  possible  with  a  manlier  step  than 
usual,  saying  to  himself, — 

"There  is,  after  all,  no  better  helm  for  a  man  than  a 
stanch  Christian  wife,  and  no  better  lighthouse  than  the 
Book.  I  felt  that  I  was  right  before  I  went  in  yonder," 
motioning  his  head  toward  the  cottage,  "arid  now,  by  the 
salt  at  the  bottom  of  Neptune"1 's  Grog,  I  know  I  am  right." 

Captain  Gale's  conviction  must  have  been  absolute,  or 
he  would  never  have  dared  salt  water  again  after  taking 
that  oath,  which,  by-the-way,  was  his  sole  superstition. 

"Run  her  out,  boys,"  commanded  the  captain,  as  he 


52  TEKEL; 

sprang  aboard  with  an  agility  which  surprised  his  crew, 
who,  however,  were  destined  quickly  to  meet  with  a  much 
greater  surprise ;  for  no  sooner  had  the  Whitecap  reached 
open  water  than  Captain  Gale  shifted  his  helm,  and 
ordered  the  vessel  in  a  direction  the  opposite  of  the  wind 
and  the  undoubting  anticipations  of  the  crew.  The  sails 
swung  about,  and  refilled,  and  the  Whitecap  as  gracefully 
and  coquettishly  wheeled  to  the  piping  wind,  as  a  sweet 
gay  girl,  under  the  eye  of  her  lover,  wheels  to  voluptuous 
music. 

Captain  Gale  steered  for  Kaffir-Land.  Having  run 
about  six  knots,  he  shifted  his  course,  and  in  a  couple  of 
hours  from  the  time  he  left  the  island,  he  anchored  against 
the  Maryland  bluffs  some  eight  miles  south  of  his  home. 
Taking  a  small  lifeboat,  he  went  ashore,  and  was  lost  in 
the  gloom  of  the  rough  and  wooded  coast.  He  was  absent 
for  the  space  of  an  hour.  When  he  returned,  he  trimmed 
his  vessel  to  run  with  the  wind,  and  was  soon  plowing 
northward  upon  his  original  course,  from  which  his  first 
two  hours'  sail  had  been  a  diversion. 

Captain  Gale  had  never  found  it  necessary  to  resort  to 
violence  in  order  to  maintain  the  respectability  of  his  name. 
He  avoided  giving  provocation,  which  was  his  chiefest 
shield.  If  any  one  sought  a  quarrel  with  him,  he  was  so 
reasonable,  and  so  firm,  and  so  bold  withal,  that  if  the  dis 
putant  was  not  disarmed  by  reason,  he  was  generally  halted 
by  the  Captain's  lion-like  aspect  and  cool  gray  eye.  Oswald 
Huron  nearer  than  any  other  man  had  succeeded  in  rousing 
him  to  the  alternative  of  violence,  but  the  sturdy  captain 
had  warded  off  a  climax  so  at  variance  with  his  tastes  and 
practices,  and  brought  himself  peaceably  away  without  one 
whit  of  his  reputation  for  pluck  abated. 

But  Captain  Gale  was  a  manner  of  man  of  which  the 
specimens  are  rare;  and,  as  the  world  goes,  the  great  mass 
of  men  could  not,  if  they  would,  follow  his  wake.  As  it  is 
very  true  that  no  girl  ever  reached  the  age  of  maturity 
without  having  received  a  most  provoking  oifer  of  marriage 
from  some  quarter,  it  is  equally  true  that  no  boy  ever  at 
tained  his  majority  without  one  or  more  favorable  opportu 
nities  for  a  personal  difficulty  other  than  that  of  matrimony. 
Nerve  and  coolness,  in  which  men  generally  are  so  deficient, 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  53 

are  probably  more  in  requisition  to  prevent  a  battle  than  to 
conduct  one.  But  with  nerves  of  steel  and  the  coolness  of 
ice,  it  is  sometimes  literally  impossible  for  a  person  to  avoid 
a  difficulty.  He  cannot  even  run  away  from  it.  In  very 
nearly  such  a  condition  Lawyer  May  found  himself  when 
he  sent  his  challenge  to  Oswald  Huron.  Captain  Gale  had 
given  Oswald  Huron  equal  cause  with  Lawyer  May  for 
hostility  and  aggression.  But  it  did  not  occur  to  the  cap 
tain  that  himself  was  a  much  more  formidable  looking  an 
tagonist  than  was  Mr.  May,  and  that  Oswald  Huron  en 
joyed  more  opportunities  of  insulting  the  slender  lawyer, 
than  he  did  the  stalwart  and  itinerant  captain  of  the  White- 
cap.  He  did  not  know  that  Oswald  Huron  had  contem 
plated  following  him  up,  through  the  convenient  medium 
of  the  United  States  mail,  with  insults  deliberately  and 
exquisitely  written,  and  deposited  in  every  post-office  along 
the  coast  where  the  captain  would  be  likely  to  call ;  and 
that  he  only  abandoned  the  enterprise  for  the  reasons  that 
he  could  not  by  that  means  gore  the  captain  deep  enough 
to  draw  blood,  and  that  his  missives  might  furnish  exten 
uating  evidence  in  the  captain's  behalf,  should  he,  by  pos 
sibility,  become  exasperated  and  belabor  the  writer. 

Although  Captain  Gale  entertained  a  sincere  regard, 
yea,  an  affection  for  Lawyer  May,  and  took  pride  in  him 
as  an  honorable,  able,  and  prominent  man,  and  sympathized 
with  him  as  being  one  of  whom  care  and  perplexity  had 
made  a  veteran,  and  although  he  and  Lawyer  May  were 
in  most  things  well  agreed,  the  time  had  come,  involving 
the  life  of  two  fellow-creatures,  the  destiny  of  children,  the 
peace  of  families,  and  the  dignity  of  law,  in  which  Captain 
Gale  was  urged  by  his  principles  and  conscience  to  oppose 
the  practice  of  his  friend,  and  endeavor  to  avert  a  calamity 
which  would  sprinkle  bitter  tears  over  infant  couches,  and 
defy  the  bond  and  order  of  government,  and  beat  with  reck 
less  and  impious  blows  upon  the  gates  of  Heaven.  And  yet 
the  fact  that  Lawyer  May  had  appealed  to  a  lawless  code, 
instead  of  reducing,  rather  augmented  for  him  the  esteem  of 
the  law-sustaining  captain  of  the  Whitecap.  Is  it  not  possi 
ble,  after  all,  that  the  pacific  captain  was  unconsciously  more 
or  less  actuated  by  a  suspicion,  a  dread,  a  well-grounded 

5* 


54  TEKEL, 

fear  that  his  friend  would  meet  with  foul  play  ?  Who  can 
divine  even  his  own  heart  to  know  it? 

It  is  proper  here  briefly  to  assist  the  imagination  of  the 
reader.  The  two  hours'  sail  of  the  Whitecap  against  the 
wind,  was  to  reach  the  nearest  point  on  the  coast  accessi 
ble  to  the  county  sheriff's  dwelling.  To  the  sheriff  Cap 
tain  Gale  anxiously  went,  and  disclosed  to  him  the  con 
templated  hostile  May-Huron  meeting,  to  prevent  which 
he  urged  the  officer  to  spare  no  pains  or  activity.  Having 
done  all  that  he  could  possibly  do,  except  to  accompany  the 
officer,  which  was  not  deemed  necessary,  he  again  com 
mitted  himself  to  wind  and  wave,  trusting  that  the  ready 
and  sagacious  officer  would  forestall  the  mischief  which 
was  in  train. 

When  Captain  Gale  turned  in  for  the  night,  his  last 
thoughts  were,  "  Blessed  are  the  peace-makers ;  for  they 
shall  be  called  the  children  of  God."  In  these  words,  his 
wife,  back  at  the  cottage,  when  he  had  consulted  her,  had 
urged  him  to  prevent  bloodshed.  Hanging  about  his  neck, 
with  tearful  eyes  and  trembling  earnestness,  she  had  given 
him  the  heartfelt  speedwell  and  good-by  of  "  Blessed  are 
the  peace-makers ;  for  they  shall  be  called  the  children  of 
God." 

Captain  Gale  slept  sweetly  out  upon  the  deep,  where 
the  billows  rocked  him  gently,  and  the  south  wind  bore 
him  onward  in  a  prosperous  voyage. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

WE  have  already  attempted  to  divine  the  motives  which 
prompted  Lawyer  May  to  go  out  into  some  deadly  dell  of 
Creswood,  while  the  light  of  a  fair  December  day  was  yet 
breaking  through  the  gloomy  forest. 

What  Oswald  Huron's  motives  were  our  pen  cannot 
conceive,  unless  they  were  founded  in  pure  perversity. 
He  had  a  risk  to  run  as  well  as  his  antagonist.  He  had 
an  eye  to  match  as  clear  and  vigilant  as  his  own  ;  and  a 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  55 

hand  as  steady  as  his  own.  And  yet  he  had  not  hesitated 
to  accept  an  issue  from  which  could  spring  no  advantage 
whatever  to  himself,  let  it  go  yea  or  nay  with  him. 

As  Lawyer  May  calmly  stood  hard  by  where  the  sec 
onds  were  measuring  the  ground  and  tossing  for  positions, 
a  professional,  in  scanning  the  lawyer's  fine  and  elegant 
figure,  would  probably  have  been  ruffled  by  no  more  seri 
ous  reflection  than,  if  the  day  should  go  against  him,  that  he 
would  at  the  very  least  make  a  handsome  corpse.  Although 
his  face  was  as  placid  as  the  sheltered  pool,  and  his  pulses 
strong  and  deliberate,  in  his  soul  he  was  living  out  many 
years  during  the  few  short  moments  of  preparation.  Os 
wald  Huron  stood  apart,  seemingly  impatient  that  the  ac 
tion  should  begin,  or  that  it  were  well  over.  The  spot 
which  had  been  chosen  was  buried  in  the  forest's  depths, 
and  secure  from  probability  of  intrusion.  The  antago 
nists  were  placed  by  their  agents  in  their  respective  select 
positions,  and  the  weapons,  being  charged  with  death, 
were  passed  to  them.  The  word  to  fire,  followed  by 
the  customary  count,  was  given.  Two  ringing  shots 
succeeded.  Oswald  Huron  took  one  step  backward,  but 
was,  in  other  respects,  apparently  untouched.  Lawyer 
May  fell  to  his  knees ;  then  drooping  to  one  side,  he  lay 
along  the  ground  mortally  wounded.  The  bullet  had 
lodged  within  his  lungs,  hopeless  of  extraction,  and  making 
a  rent  which  let  in  the  blood  upon  his  breath  and  almost 
suffocated  him  upon  the  spot.  Oswald  Huron  had  worn 
a  secret  breastplate.  He  was  an  amateur  chemist  and  as 
tronomer,  at  times  observing  the  heavens  through  a  small 
telescope  which  he  had,  and  at  times  and  for  no  visible 
purpose,  working  in  metals.  Hence,  together  with  his  sin 
gular  personal  appearance,  his  reputation  among  the  igno 
rant  of  being  a  necromancer.  A  sheet  of  copper  from  his 
laboratory  had  been  readily  improvised  for  use  as  a  hidden 
shield.  When  he  reached  Cliff  Hall  a  manslayer,  he  found 
the  plate  of  copper  deeply  indented  where  it  had  covered 
his  heart.  He  laughed  in  savage  triumph. 

Lawyer  May  was  taken  to  his  home,  sensible  of  his  condi 
tion,  but  speechless.  When  his  little  boy  came  in,  the  child's 
look  of  horror  and  cry  of  wild  dismay,  and  the  quenching 
emotion  pictured  in  his  face,  smote  upon  the  father's  heart 


56  TEKEL, 

infinitely  sharper,  and  deeper,  and  sorer  than  all  the  insults 
which  had  urged  him  to  this  fatal  dernier  ressort.  How 
bitter  it  was  to  the  father  now  to  reflect  upon  the  results 
of  his  hazard,  and  how  sweet  it  would  have  been  to  have 
recalled  that  hazard,  and  forever  to  have  eschewed  its  like  ; 
and  to  have  lived  and  gone  out  from  the  haunts  of  his 
enemy,  and  found  a  new  home,  in  which  he  could  have 
reared  his  son,  and  taught  him  the  wisdom,  unselfishness, 
and  beauty  of  humility  and  forbearance.  The  film  of  death 
upon  the  eye  gives  clearer  vision  to  the  soul,  thought  the 
expiring  father.  It  is  a  question,  however,  whether  he 
would  not  have  considered  his  life  expended  in  a  well-di 
rected  effort,  had  he  been  able  to  have  left  his  son  well  pro 
vided  with  funds  and  friends.  For  this  mortal  problem  of 
the  duello  is  not  altogether  like  the  moon,  a  one  sided  affair. 
It  has  several  sides,  like  a  triangle.  But,  as  a  rule,  the 
bitter  follows  the  sweet  of  it,  as  quinine  taken  in  honey; 
and  as  an  exception,  the  sweet  succeeds  the  bitter,  as  when 
chewing  the  root  of  the  dulcamara,  a  deadly  nightshade, 
by-the-way.  Had  Lawyer  May  killed  Oswald  Huron  and 
escaped  unhurt  himself,  he  would  not  have  lived  contented 
with  so  perfect  a  result.  His  mind  would  ever  have  lacked 
that  serenity  so  pleasing  and  fair,  and  so  meet  for  happi 
ness  and  contentment.  Probably  the  only  condition  upon 
which  he  could  have  left  the  contest  with  satisfaction, 
would  have  been  the  wounding  of  his  adversary,  as  a  pain 
ful  lesson  to  him,  and  with  the  assurance  that  he  would 
never  have  to  repeat  the  lesson.  A  bloodless  battle  would 
have  been  regarded  by  him  as  an  abortion.  And  a  recon 
ciliation,  could  it  have  been  possible,  would  only  have 
soothed  without  satisfying  his  wrongs;  for  no  man  can 
utterly  forgive  as  Christ  forgives. 

Mrs.  Gale,  as  soon  as  she  was  advised  of  the  issue,  went 
up  to  Lawyer  May's  residence,  and  ministered  to  him. 
Taking  little  Carroll  in  her  arms,  she  wept  over  him 
passionately.  She  told  Mr.  May  of  the  effort  which  her 
husband  had  made  to  avert  this  solemn  sequel.  A  smile 
of  gratitude  was  his  reply.  Promising  to  call  again  in  the 
morning  and  see  to  his  comfort,  she  returned  home.  But 
in  the  morning  he  would  have  no  need  of  earthly  comfort. 

Lawyer  May,  surrounded  by  his  neighbors,  among  whom 


OR    CORA    GLENCOE.  5f 

were  those  who  had  mistreated  by  misjudging  him,  died  at 
nightfall,  of  suffocation  by  internal  hemorrhage.  From  the 
time  that  he  fell,  until  his  death,  he  had  been  speechless, 
as  the  least  exertion  to  speak  flooded  his  lungs.  He  had 
managed  to  scrawl  a  note  to  Captain  Gale,  requesting  him 
to  record,  for  the  future  information  of  his  son,  wherefore 
he  bad  met  his  death  by  violence. 

In  the  face  of  this  tragedy  Creswood  turned  pale.  The 
sheriff  had  been  active  to  perform  his  duty,  but  an  Indian 
jungle  is  not  more  pathless  and  perplexing  than  were  the 
untrodden  holds  and  morning  twilight  of  the  dense  forest. 
The  law,  both  before  and  after  the  breach,  was  foiled  of  its 
capture.  Lawyer  May  died  without  making  any  commu 
nication  about  the  manner  and  cause  of  his  overthrow, 
other  than  the  simple  note  which  he  left  for  Captain  Gale. 
Oswald  Huron  was  silent.  No  one  knew,  or  appeared  to 
know,  who  were  the  seconds.  In  a  strictly  legal  sense, 
there  was  total  ignorance  upon  the  subject;  but  the  moral 
certainty  was  coequal  with  the  lack  of  licit  evidence.  No 
one  doubted  that  Oswald  Huron  killed  Lawyer  May,  but 
there  were  many  who  claimed  it  to  be,  not  the  work  of  the 
man,  but  of  the  necromancer.  Consequently  the  Necro 
mancer's  notoriety  widened  and  deepened  among  the  sim 
pletons  of  Creswood,  and  not  a  few  old  women  prophesied. 

The  Whitecap  again  rode  at  anchor  in  the  little  harbor 
back  of  the  island.  The  vessel  was  drawing  fewer  inches 
than  it  had  ever  claimed  since  it  was  launched.  Not  an  arti 
cle  of  traffic  was  aboard,  except  a  package  or  two  for  Mr. 
Nutt,  the  country  merchant.  Captain  Gale  had  completely 
vended  his  stock  to  coast  merchants  and  families  who  were 
laying  in  their  winter  supplies.  He  dealt  almost  exclusively 
in  staple  goods  and  groceries.  "Jeems  River,"  that  is  to 
say,  James  River  tobacco,  was  his  pet.  It  left  no  remnants, 
came  solid,  stowed  solid,  sold  for  solid  cash,  and  always 
made  good  ballast;  for  Captain  Gale  permitted  no  bilge- 
water  in  his  boat  to  injure  his  goods.  He  would  say  to  his 
crew,  "Boys,  bilge-water  is  hefty,  and  bilge-water  is  odo 
riferous,  but  it's  neither  ballast  nor  balsam."  Although  he 
had  missed  his  Johnny's  "sip  ahoy!"  when  he  sailed  under 
the  cottage  shore,  and  although  the  weather  was  cold  and 
blustering,  he  walked  with  a  comfortable  and  dignified  bear- 


58  TEKEL, 

ing  as  he  approached  the  door  of  his  island  home,  for  under 
his  arm  he  carried  that  storm-baffling  life-ballast — a  well- 
filled  money  chest, — and  in  his  heart  was  the  buoy  of  pros 
perity.  Entering  his  cottage,  he  found  a  cheerful  fire  and 
all  well.  He  was  shocked  at  the  sight  of  little  Carroll  May, 
sitting  upon  the  floor  patting  the  head  of  Johnny's  dog, 
which  immediately  sprang  up  to  welcome  him.  Carroll 
followed  the  dog's  example,  and  responded  with  a  mixture 
of  gravity  and  cheerful  childlike  frankness  to  Captain  Gale's 
fatherly  greeting.  • 

"No  need  to  ask  how  it  terminated,"  said  Captain  Gale 
to  his  wife. 

"The  very  worst  has  befallen,"  answered  Mrs.  Gale, 
who,  in  an  undertone,  related  to  her  husband  all  that  was 
generally  known  or  surmised  in  connection  with  the  death 
of  Lawyer  May.  Captain  Gale  gravely  shook  his  head, 
and  sat  for  some  time  without  speaking.  Carroll  and 
Johnny,  with  the  dog,  sported  on  the  floor. 

Lawyer  May's  estate  at  the  time  of  his  death  was  barely 
solvent.  The  house  in  which  he  had  lived,  and  the  land 
belonging  to  it,  were  pledged,  and  would  pass  into  other 
hands.  As  has  been  stated,  he  was  once  wealthy.  He 
had  lost  largely  by  the  failure  of  a  deposit  bank,  and  yet 
more  largely  as  security  for  insolvent  relatives.  A  few 
hundred  dollars  would  be  all  that  his  son  would  inherit. 
This  amount  was  in  bank  notes,  and  was  inclosed  in  one 
of  the  open  packages  which  he  had  intrusted  to  Captain 
Gale.  Creswood  was  astonished  to  learn  that  Lawyer 
May  had  been  almost  penniless,  for  he  had  not  failed  scru 
pulously  to  pay* his  debts  whenever  due. 

It  now  became  the  duty  of  Captain  Gale  to  comply  with 
the  request  of  Lawyer  May  respecting  the  child.  The 
honest  mariner  was  a  just  man  to  the  world  at  large,  and 
a  kind-hearted  man  to  those  who  stood  in  need  either  of 
assistance  or  protection.  A  tempest  in  the  bosom  of  a  little 
child  would  move  his  heart  of  oak  more  sensibly  than  the 
tempests  of  the  deep.  He  was  ignorant  whether  or  not  the 
little  boy  knew  what  disposition  his  father  had  made  of 
him. 

"  Carroll,"  he  asked,  "  do  you  know  where  you  are  to 
live?" 


OR    CORA    GLENCOE.  59 

With  touching  simplicity  and  confidence  the  little  fellow 
replied,  while  he  swung  upon  Captain  Gale's  knee, — 

"I  am  going  to  live  with  you;  because  father  said  that 
you  are  such  a  good,  brave  man." 

Captain  Gale  looked  up  at  the  ceiling.  A  tear  slowly 
gathered  in  his  eye.  He  was  ashamed  of  a  visitor  so 
strange  to  his  cheek,  for  he  had  long  felt  that  the  time  of  life 
had  passed  in  which  he  should  ever  again  be  called  upon 
to  wipe  away  the  casual  tear-drop.  The  roughest  usage  of 
the  rough  world  to  himself  would  not  have  moistened  his 
clear  gray  eye.  But  the  little  boy  had  artlessly  touched 
his  stout  heart  in  a  very  tender  spot,  and  the  rising  tear 
found  vent  through  a  passage  which  was  sealed  to  waters 
of  grief,  unless  that  grief  was  mingled  with  sympathy  and 
tenderness.  He  pulled  out  his  pocket-handkerchief  and 
blew  his  nose.  Glancing  towards  his  wife,  he  saw  that 
her  trembling  lids  were  about  to  overflow. 

'Let  it  be  so,  husband,"  said  Mrs.  Gale. 

'I  must  follow  instructions,"  replied  the  captain. 

'But  maybe  you  can  so  arrange  it?" 

'Not  likely.    'Tis  his  grandparents  that  he  must  go  to." 

' His  mother's  parents?" 

'Carroll?"  said  Captain  Gale,  to  the  boy,  "you  and 
Johnny  run  into  the  kitchen  and  sit  by  the  fire  until  I  call 
you  back."  When  the  boys  had  gone,  he  continued  :  "His 
maternal  grandfather,  and  bis  step-grandmother." 

"Ah,  then,"  said  Mrs  Gale,  "the  difficulty  is  reduced 
fully  two-thirds  at  one  stroke,  if  it  is  only  a  step-grand 
mother." 

"And  necessity  may  reduce  the  other  third,"  said  the 
captain.  "But,  Sallie,  before  any  more  is  said,  are  you 
certain  that  you  want  him?" 

"  I  am.  He's  a  fine  boy,  and  I  can't  help  but  love  him. 
Then  Johnny  needs  a  companion,  and  he  could  not  be  bet 
ter  suited.  They  are  attached  already,  and  they  play  and 
fight  and  play  again,  with  as  much  harmony  and  as  little 
harm  as  any  two  brothers." 

"His  grandparents  are  very  old,  and  very  poor,  and 
really  not  able  to  take  care  of  him,"  said  Captain  Gale. 
"All  they  have  in  the  world  is  owing  to  the  former  wealth 
and  liberality  of  Mr.  May.  I  am  satisfied  that  Mr.  May 


60  TEKEL, 

would  have  chosen  me  for  his  son's  guardian,  had  the  estate 
been  sufficient  for  the  support  of  the  little  one.  But  he  did 
not  like  to  put  his  unprovided  son  upon  the  bounty  of  any 
body,  without  some  claim  of  kin  justified  it." 

"It  will  be  better  so,  John.  If  we  take  the  child  of  our 
own  pleasure  and  accord,  we  are  more  apt  to  continue  sat 
isfied  than  if  we  take  him,  however  willingly,  by  request." 

"How  do  you  make  that  out,  Sallie?" 

"Vanity  and  perversity  of  human  nature,  I  suppose," 
replied  Mrs.  Gale,  laughing  pleasantly. 

"  But  could  you  do  Carroll  affectionate  justice  in  view 
of  our  own  children?" 

"Why  not?" 

"Because  every  cook  thinks  her  own  cake  the  best." 

"  Try  me,  John.  I  engage  not  to  fail  either  in  duty  or 
affection." 

"  It  will  not  cost  us  a  great  deal,"  said  Captain  Gale,  "and 
though  we  are  not  rich,  we  can  easily  afford  it.  What  he 
eats  would  not  be  missed  from  the  table.  For  the  next  ten 
years,  thirty  dollars  per  annum  will  clothe  him.  His 
money,  which  is  in  my  possession,  will  bring  in  about  that 
amount  at  interest.  Mr.  Hope  intends  to  open  a  school  in 
which  he  will  educate  free  of  cost,  except  for  books,  all  who 
are  needy.  That  is  the  mercenary,  financial  summing  up 
of  the  business,  which,  though  important,  is  by  no  means 
so  important  as  that  he  should  have  a  home  and  a  mother. 
It  shall  be  done,  Sallie,  if  these  old  people  will  consent. 
The  proposition  would  have  originated  with  me  probably, 
but  as  I  am  so  much  away,  and  as  the  added  care  will  fall 
chiefly  upon  you,  I  do  not  know  that  I  should  have  spoken 
without  some  encouragement." 

"You  are  a  dear  old  lion,"  said  Mrs.  Gale,  with  playful 
affection. 

"And  you, — let  me  see,  now,  what  you  are; — you're  a 
sweet  little  pussy,"  retorted  the  quaint  captain,  who 
tapped  his  wife's  cheek,  got  up,  shook  himself,  took  down  a 
pipe,  and  soon  began  to  puff  tobacco-smoke  serene. 

Captain  Gale  wrote  to  Carroll's  grandfather  Preston, 
who  lived  near  the  village  Fortesque,  some  eighty  odd 
miles  away.  In  respect  to  Carroll,  the  mariner  made  offers 
which,  whether  accepted  or  not,  could  not  be  considered 


OR   CORA    QLENCOE.  61 

otherwise  than  very  kind  and  favorable.  In  due  course  of 
mail  a  reply  was  received.  "  Old  Mr.  Preston  was,  had 
been,  and  probably  would  continue  to  be,  bed-ridden.  He 
was  not  able  to  take  care  of  himself,  and  old  Mrs.  Preston 
had  to  care  for  him,  and  the  neighbors  had  to  care  for  her. 
She  was  willing  to  take  little  Carroll,  but  how  he  would 
get  along  or  thrive  there  she  didn't  know.  She  knew  of 
Captain  Gale  from  the  letters  of  the  dead,  and  from  his 
own  good  letter,  that  he  was  an  upright  and  good  brave 
man,  and  it  would  be  for  Carroll's  sake  that  she  and  Mr. 
Preston  would  accept  the  generous  proposals,  and  she 
hoped  that  God  would  stretch  out  His  arm,  not  only  over 
the  little  orphan,  but  over  his  timely  and  generous  friend ; 
and  that  Mrs.  Gale  would  be  a  mother  to  the  little  one, 
and  that  Carroll  when  he  came  to  be  of  stature  would 
repay  them  for  their  deeds  of  care  and  gifts  of  affection." 

The  old  lady  had  dictated  a  very  proper  and  feeling  letter, 
and  though  her  amanuensis  had  misspelt  and  mispunctu- 
ated,  and  made  of  it  an  epistle  ludicrously  misdight,  the 
sense  of  it  was  very  clear;  and  Carroll  was  forthwith  num 
bered  among  the  inhabitants  of  Gale  Island.  He  soon 
learned  to  say  "Uncle  Gale,"  and  "ma,"  when  addressing 
or  speaking  of  Captain  and  Mrs.  Gale,  and  glided  into  the 
family  and  became  one  of  it  almost  as  naturally  and  ef 
fectually  as  if  he  had  traveled  into  it  from  a  bed  of  travail. 
Little  Johnny  Gale,  when  he  appreciated  that  Carroll  was 
to  be  his  brother,  and  stay  with  him  and  play  with  him 
always,  thought  himself  hand-over-fist  in  luck.  Notwith 
standing  that  the  boys  were  devoted  to  each  other,  hardly 
a  day  passed  without  a  fight  or  quarrel  between  them ;  and 
upon  occasion  Mrs.  Gale  spanked  them  both  soundly. 
Carroll  was  quick  to  anger  and  quick  to  relent.  Johnny 
was  good-nature  itself,  and  of  an  equable  temper,  but  when 
he  did  take  issue  and  set  his  meg,  be  was  about  as  stubborn 
as  a  mule.  Whenever  Carroll  saw  Johnny  begin  to  look 
in  the  face  like  a  young  bull,  he  knew  that  it  was  time  to 
propose  something  else,  as  a  diversion.  Johnny  was  per 
fectly  willing  to  be  led,  but  he  would  not  be  driven  an  inch. 

The  Reverend  St.  John  Hope,  minister  at  Creswood, 
proved  himself  worthy  of  Mr.  Guy  Rapid's  gracious  and 
graceful  gift.  Although  he  was  no  longer  under  the  eye  of 

6 


62  TEKEL, 

his  benefactor  who  had  moved  to  Texas,  and  now  that  he 
was  comfortable,  he  did  not  sit  at  ease  in  his  study  and  cut 
out  Sunday  work  merely,  but,  exerting  himself  to  merit  in 
the  sight  of  God  and  man  the  good  fortune  which  had  so 
seasonably  dropped  upon  him,  strove  to  share  its  advan 
tages  with  his  neighbors  by  making  the  additional  influence 
and  opportunities  which  it  gave  him,  fruitful  of  good.  He 
opened  a  day-school  in  his  dwelling.  The  children  of  the 
poor  he  instructed  free  of  cost,  and  faithfully.  What  it  was 
to  be  poor  and  struggling  he  himself  had  well  known,  until 
the  munificence  of  Mr.  Rapid  had  lifted  him  out  of  his  pov 
erty,  and  secured  to  him  a  life  of  temporal  comfort  and  com 
petency.  For,  strange  as  it  may  appear,  as  Mr.  Hope's 
domestic  prosperity  increased,  the  liberality  of  his  neighbors 
and  church  members  increased  likewise.  There  was  some 
distinction,  it  seemed,  in  giving  to  a  well-dressed,  well-to- 
do,  elegant-looking  minister  of  the  gospel ;  whereas  the 
pitiable  dollar  subscribed  in  pure  charity  to  the  threadbare 
laborer  in  the  vineyard,  lost  its  luster  altogether  by  reason 
of  the  recipient's  insignificance.  Another  reason  for  in 
creased  liberality  on  the  part  of  his  neighbors  was  shame. 
Guy  Rapid,  who  was  capable,  both  at  heart  and  in  purse, 
of  the  noblest  acts,  and  Captain  Gale,  much  more  willing  at 
heart  than  his  purse  was  able,  together  with  a  few  others, 
all  non-professors,  had  habitually  contributed,  independ 
ently  of  their  wives'  good  gifts,  the  greater  portion  of  the 
means  which  went  to  maintain  the  church  and  its  minister. 
Mr.  Rapid,  at  the  death-bed  of  his  wife,  had  heard  Mr. 
Hope  at  prayer.  "  Surely  this  is  a  man  of  God,"  thought 
he,  "  whose  words  rise  from  the  depths  of  his  soul,  reaching 
to  the  Throne ;"  and  with  one  stroke  of  his  pen  he  set  the 
minister  free  from  the  niggardly  purses  of  his  pastorate, 
and  put  them  all  to  shame. 

Besides  being  a  mostexcellentman  and  effective  preacher, 
Mr.  Hope,  from  being  a  regular  graduate,  became  a  regular 
student,  and  his  somewhat  advanced  age  found  him 
thoroughly  educated  and  scholarly  in  the  American  sense 
of  the  terms.  He  had  not  married  until  rather  late  in  life, 
which  was  the  most  reprehensible  example,  probably,  that 
he  had  ever  given  to  the  world — of  young  bachelors.  His 
family  now  consisted  of  a  wife,  son,  and  two  daughters. 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  63 

His  wife  was  much  younger  than  himself  His  son  Gar 
land  was  eleven  years  of  age.  His  daughters,  Bell  and 
Hattie,  were  respectively  seven  and  five.  And  altogether 
they  were  a  happy  family.  His  school  flourished,  and  be 
came  a  source  of  convenient  though  well-earned  revenue, 
which,  with  the  product  of  his  perfect  little  farm,  and  a 
moderate  salary  from  the  pulpit,  enabled  him  to  live  in  that 
respectable  and  unexceptionable  style  so  appropriate  to  the 
devout,  earnest,  and  genuine  minister  of  the  gospel. 

As  time  sped,  among  his  scholars  were  numbered  Car 
roll  May,  Johnny  and  Caddy  Gale,  and  Cora  Glencoe 
Huron,  the  little  girl  who  was  yet  astray  from  her  rightful 
parents.  Cora  was  a  marked  figure  both  in  and  out  of 
school,  partly  because  she  possessed  a  pure  and  enchanting 
beauty  of  person  and  way,  and  a  face  of  surpassing  sweet 
ness,  and  partly  for  the  reason  that  she  was  supposed  to 
be  the  daughter  of  the  Necromancer.  Her  own  loveliness, 
and  her  connection  with  a  superhuman,  invested  her  with 
the  triple  charm  of  wonder,  speculation,  and  awe.  The 
little  boys  regarded  her  as  matchless,  but  unapproachable, 

A  short  time  after  Captain  Gale's  children  became  pu 
pils  of  the  Creswood  school,  the  captain  went  up  to  the 
residence  of  the  minister,  which  was  just  beyond  Cliff 
Hall  and  overlooking  the  sea,  to  ascertain  how  the  new 
pupils  took  to  their  books. 

"  They  commence  very  well,"  said  the  minister,  "  very 
well  indeed,  and  they  behave  well  also  Johnny  sometimes 
boils  over  with  fun,  but  he  has  progressed  so  far  as  to  be 
able  to  restrain  to  a  moderate  giggle  what,  in  the  begin 
ning,  was  as  outright  laughter  as  ever  was  heard  at  a 
monkey-show.  By-the-way,  captain,  all  my  elder  scholars, 
aud  myself  also,  had  a  good  hearty  peal  at  your  expense 
on  the  day  when  your  children  first  entered  school.  It 
was  what  I  consider  a  pretty  good  joke  on  the  captain  of 
the  Whitecap." 

"  I  am  sure,"  said  Captain  Gale,  "  that  you  would  never 
laugh  at  a  bad  joke  ;  so  let's  have  it." 

"  It  involves  an  excellent  moral,  moreover,  showing  how 
little  we  imagine  and  appreciate  the  effect  which  our  cas 
ual  or  careless  expressions  may  have  upon  the  minds  and 
understandings  of  the  youthful.  But  here,"  said  the  minis- 


64  TEKEL, 

ter,  with  a  broad  smile  of  amusement.  "  It  is  a  custom  of 
my  school-room  to  exercise  the  memories  of  the  younger 
pupils  by  quoting  a  snatch  of  something  from  the  primary 
books  over  which  they  have  gone,  and  asking  them  whence 
it  comes  ;  from  what  book  cometh  it.  It  was  Carroll's 
first  day,  and  he  happened  to  be  at  the  head  of  the  class. 
I  quoted  the  first  two  lines  of  '  Mary  had  a  little  lamb,  its 
fleece  was  white  as  snow,'  and  where,  now,  do  you  imagine 
that  Carroll  said  it  could  be  found?" 

"  On  board  the  Whitecap  ?"  laughingly  asked  the  cap 
tain. 

"  No,  captain ;  he  said  that  it  was  from  the  Bible. 

"  '  Error,'  said  I.    '  Try  again.' 

"  '  It's  from  Shakspeare,'  said  he,  on  second  trial. 

"  '  Error,'  again  said  I,  and  was  about  to  pass  the  ques 
tion  to  the  next  pupil,  when  he  spoke  up  quickly  and  deci 
sively,  saying, — 

"  '  Then  it's  from  the  Constitution  of  the  United  States, 
for  I  heard  Uncle  Gale  say  that  what  wasn't  in  the  Bible 
was  in  Shakspeare,  and  what  wasn't  in  Shakspeare  was  in 
the  Constitution,  and  he  knows,  because  he's  a  sailor,  and 
has  been  all  over  the  world.'"  And  the  minister  laughed 
heartily  at  the  droll-looking  captain. 

"  It's  a  poor  sailor  that  can't  shift  a  joke,"  said  Captain 
Gale.  "If  you  will  look  in  Matthew,  Mark,  Luke,  or 
John,  you'll  find  where  Mary  did  have  a  little  lamb,  and 
as  white  as  snow." 

"  Ay ;  the  Lamb  of  God,"  reverentially  spoke  the  min 
ister.  "  I  believe  you  are  right  after  all,  captain.  Ay, 
whiter  than  snow." 

"  I  appreciate  the  moral  and  accept  it ;  but,  my  dear  sir," 
said  Captain  Gale,  smiling,  "  before  you  get  off  another 
joke  upon  a  sailor,  first  see  whether  or  not  there's  a  turn 
to  it." 

"  I'm  aware  that  you  are  a  shifty  crew,"  said  the  minis 
ter.  "  I  only  wish  that  you  would  shift  your  helm  so  as 
to  run  into  the  fold  of  which  this  Lamb  is  the  great  Shep 
herd." 

"  I  am  not  altogether  a  stray  sheep,  Mr.  Hope.  I  be 
lieve  that  I  belong  to  the  common  fold,  though  not  to  your 
flock." 


OR   CORA    OLENCOE.  65 

"  It  is  the  safest  to  choose  a  distinct  flock,  and  not  be  com 
mon  to  all  and  an  alien  to  each." 

"  I'm  trespassing  on  your  time,  my  dear  sir,"  said  Cap 
tain  Gale,  who  escaped  from  a  discussion  for  which  he  did 
not  feel  himself  prepared  just  then,  and  also  from  a  "  pre 
dicament"  which  most  men  dislike  and  few  ministers  have 
the  knack  of  making  easy  or  agreeable.  Mr.  Hope,  how 
ever,  was  one  of  those  few.  He  was,  par  excellence,  a 
chivalrous,  reasonable,  and  dulcet  exhortator  in  pulpit  and 
in  private.  He  did  not  excite  the  distaste  or  provoke  the 
ridicule  of  his  company  or  companion  with  the  stereotyped 
whang  and  whine  of  the  time-serving  petty  theologian,  but 
like  a  veteran  and  knightly  soldier  of  the  Cross,  roused  the 
celestial  ardor  and  aspirations  of  the  young,  and,  upon  the 
elder  sinner,  urged,  with  no  narrow  views  of  the  pulpit- 
politician,  but  with  the  attractive  and  comprehensive 
ability  of  the  heavenly  statesman,  the  timely  adoption  of 
those  life-measures  which  would  set  the  soul  in  harmony 
with  its  Creator,  and  array  it  under  the  Banner  of  the  Prince 
of  Peace.  He  did  not,  as  is  so  often  done,  pencil  away  his 
cause  by  drawing  a  far-distant,  microscopic  Eternity,  which, 
compared  with  the  life-sized  foreground  portrait  of  Time 
with  all  its  hurtful  and  innocuous  charms  displayed,  was 
as  the  frail  and  uncertain  butterfly  to  the  unerring  and 
booty-getting  eagle.  But  out  of  the  heights  and  depths  of 
his  own  appreciation  of  the  Kingdom,  his  divine  and  per 
petual  images  overshadowed  all  fleeting  temporalities  as 
the  firmament  overcometh  the  earth,  rendering  them  trivial 
and  vapid  to  the  soul,  and  as  idle  to  the  eye  as  the  aimless 
wind  dallying  with  dead  leaves  over  the  graves  of  the  for 
gotten. 

In  the  process  of  time,  Carroll  May  and  Cora  Glencoe 
became,  in  proportion  to  their  years,  the  boy-brilliant  and 
girl-brilliant  of  the  Creswood  school ;  and  though  the  min 
ister  did  not  permit  himself  to  exhibit  partiality,  he  took 
especial  pride  and  interest  in  the  orphan  boy  and  the  ill- 
fathered  little  girh  But  there  was  a  thing  in  connection 
with  Cora  which  annoyed  and  distressed  Mr.  Hope  greatly. 
She  never  spoke  to  Carroll,  jlohnny,  or  Caddy,  or  gave 
them  an  opportunity  of  speaking  to  her,  though  they  rubbed 
together  almost  every  day.  The  two  boys  soon  learned  to 

6* 


66  TEKEL, 

let  her  severely  alone,  though  they  found  it  impossible  not 
to  gaze  at  her  whenever,  unobserved,  they  could  do  so. 
Caddy  Gale  did  not  lack  for  playmates  ;  and  the  fact  that 
Cora  never  recognized  her  was  one  to  which,  after  her  first 
astonishment,  she  soon  got  accustomed,  losing  no  sleep 
about  it,  and  finally  regarding  it  as  an  unimportant  matter- 
of-course.  But  the  two  boys,  who  had  reached  the  age 
when  romance  usurps  the  place  of  reason  and  demolishes 
the  method  of  the  mind,  did  lose  sleep  about  it,  for  they 
were  both  in  love  with  Coy,  as  they  called  her,  and  talked 
of  her  by  day  and  by  night,  each  making  a  confidant  of  the 
other,  and  sympathizing  with  each  other  in  their  hopeless 
ness.  It  would  seem  natural  that  they  should  have  dis 
liked  her,  but  there  was  nothing  in  the  manner  of  Coy, 
beyond  her  coyness  and  silence,  to  create  dislike ;  nothing 
supercilious,  disdainful,  or  rude.  Her  conduct  simply  and 
pensively  said,  "I  do  not  know  you;  therefore  I  cannot 
speak."  Or  else,  and  more  likely,  "I  cannot  know  you; 
therefore  I  do  not  speak."  So,  from  talking  continually  of 
Coy,  they  began  to  dream  of  her;  and  there  is  nothing  so 
creative  of  love-sickness,  or  so  fertilizing  to  the  malady,  in 
tender  youth,  as  those  strange  and  ravishing  interviews 
vouchsafed  to  the  vivid  dreamer. 

It  has  been  stated  that  Mr.  Hope  was  both  annoyed  and 
distressed  on  account  of  Cora's  action  in  ignoring  altogether 
the  existence  and  presence  of  Carroll  May  and  the  young- 
Gales. 

He  was  annoyed,  because  this  silent  feud  interfered  with 
the  arrangement  of  his  classes.  Cora  Glencoe  was  able  to 
cope  with  Carroll  May  in  all  studies  involving  ethics,  and 
he  would  have  delighted  in  putting  them  in  class  and  com 
petition  with  each  other.  But  he  had  no  third  pupil  to  put 
between  them  in  the  class,  except  his  son  Garland,  who 
was  much  older  and  much  too  far  advanced.  In  botany, 
Cora  far  excelled  Carroll,  as  he  did  her  in  geometry.  Mr. 
Hope  cultivated,  as  an  adjunct  of  the  school-room,  a  small 
botanic  garden,  in  which  Cora  was  often  seen,  as  busy  as 
a  bee  among  the  flowers,  culling  knowledge  whence  the 
bee  culled  honey. 

The  minister  was  distressed,  because  he  witnessed, 
nearly  every  day,  a  precocious  restraint  and  stoicism  mani- 


OR   CORA    GLEN  CO  E.  67 

fested  by  these  children,  which,  at  times,  was  absolutely 
painful  to  him.  But  he  was  impotent  to  ameliorate  or 
remedy  what  he  regarded  as  lamentable. 

He  knew  that  Oswald  Huron  had  made  an  unusual  con 
cession  in  permitting  Cora  even  to  attend  the  same  school 
with  the  son  of  Lawyer  May  and  the  children  of  Captain 
Gale,  and  that  this  was  the  utmost  which  he  could  hope 
from  him.  He  doubted  not  that  the  implacable  master  of 
Cliff  Hall  had  strictly  and  despotically  charged  his  little 
daughter  on  the  subject  of  her  associates;  and  although  the 
minister  had  ever  been  independent  of  Oswald  Huron  and 
his  influence,  and  mentally  protested  against  this  precocious 
feud  between  innocent  children,  he  did  not  dare  to  interfere. 
But  it  was  on  Cora's  account,  solely,  that  he  held  his  peace. 
He  looked  upon  her  as  a  sweet  and  tender  flower,  sporadi 
cally  springing  up  and  blooming  in  a  place  of  shadow, 
which,  should  he  not  give  it  sunlight  and  shelter,  would 
wither  beneath  the  nipping  frosts,  or  have  its  fragrant 
blonde  petals  rifted  and  scattered  by  the  winds. 

Ou  the  other  hand,  Oswald  Huron,  who  was  a  man -of 
mental  culture,  though  conceding  no  great  respect  either  to 
Mr.  Hope  or  his  ministerial  robe,  recognized  in  the  minis 
ter  a  man  with  whom  he  could  safely  trust  his  daughter, 
and  whose  school  discipline  suited  his  fancy.  The  almost 
faultless  order  of  Cora's  progress  confirmed  him  in  favor 
of  the  school,  and  amply  able  as  he  was  to  have  sent 
her  to  some  more  fashionable  institution,  he  was  agreed 
that  he  could  not  find  a  preferable -one,  or,  in  all  respects, 
as  convenient  and  good  a  one  as  the  school  of  Creswood. 
He  even  permitted  himself  to  go  so  far  as  to  like  Mr.  Hope, 
when,  after  repeated  strict  questionings  of  Cora,  he  became 
satisfied  that  the  minister  did  not  presume  to  dictate  to  her 
in  regard  to  her  associates. 

Oswald  Huron,  notwithstanding  he  has  appeared  in  such 
a  bad  light  to  the  reader,  possessed  the  elements  of  an  ex 
cellent  and  eminent  man.  But  these  elements  seemed  to 
have  been  dislocated,  and,  acting  abnormally  upon  each 
other,  to  have  made  him  what  he  was,  "  out  of  tune  and 
harah."  Some  said  that  he  was  possessed  of  a  devil; 
others,  that  he  was  partially  deranged;  and  still  others, 
that  he  had  deliberately,  though  bitterly  and  viciously, 


68  TEKEL, 

chosen  to  be  an  Ishmael,  delighting  in  nothing  so  much  as 
to  be  at  loggerheads  with  all  the  world. 

Neville  Huron,  who  lived  in  Philadelphia,  differed  widely 
from  his  brother  Oswald.  He  was  an  equable,  confiding, 
gentlemanly  man  and  neighbor,  almost  too  confiding  in 
fact,  as  the  sequel  may  show.  But  he  was  forced  to  regard 
his  brother  unfavorably,  and.  there  was  but  little  intercourse 
between  them.  Neville  Huron  was  a  man  of  wealth  and 
family.  His  son  Graham,  who  was  about  five  years  the 
senior  of  Cora  Glencoe,  was  bis  first  born.  Augusta  was 
next  to  Cora,  and  Gertrude  was  the  youngest.  Mrs. 
Neville  Huron  was  a  well-bred  Philadelphia  lady,  and  the 
family,  as  a  whole,  were  highly  respectable  and  elegant  in 
all  their  appointments. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

h 

ONE  evening  after  tea,  while  Captain  Gale  was  sitting 
on  his  cottage  portico  quietly  smoking  his  pipe,  and  look 
ing  upon  the  billows  which  lazily  rolled  in  the  moonlight, 
Carroll  and  Johnny  maneuvered  about  him  as  if  medita 
ting  some  sort  of  an  attack.  Carroll  was  the  bolder  scout 
of  the  two,  or  else  Johnny  had  put  him  forward,  for  he 
finally  skirmished  up  to  the  captain's  chair,  and  said, — 

"Uncle  Gale." 

"What,  Carroll?" 

"Johnny  and  I  want  to  take  a  trip." 

"Well,  you  can  take  a  trip." 

"When,  father  ?"  interposed  Johnny,  encouraged  by  this 
favorable  opening. 

"When  the  Whitecap  sails  again." 

"But  we  want  a  land  trip  this  time,"  said  the  boys. 

"Where  do  you  wish  to  go?"  asked  Captain  Gale. 

"  To  Texas,"  answered  the  boys  in  chorus. 

"  Ph-e-w  !"  and  Captain  Gale  blew  a  column  of  smoke 
almost  up  to  the  ceiling  of  the  por.tico.  The  boys  laughed, 
but  were  nevertheless  in  earnest  and  anxious. 

"What  put  Texas  in  your  heads?"  asked  Captain  Gale. 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  69 

"Pony  Rapid,"  they  replied. 

"Cassel  Rapid,  do  you  mean?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  Is  he  at  Creswood  ?" 

"  No,  sir ;  but  we  wrote  to  him,  and  got  a  letter  from 
him." 

"What  does4ie  say?" 

"  He  says  he  wants  us  to  come  out  there,  and  make 
him  a  visit,  and  if  we  have  no  money,  that  his  father  will 
pay  the  expenses,  and  that  he  will  give  Johnny  and  me" 
(it  was  Carroll  who  was  now  speaking)  "  a  mustang 
pony.  He  can  ride  like  a  Ranger,  and  throw  the  lasso, 
and  shoot,  and  almost  turn  himself  wrong-side-outwards! 
He  says  he  will  come  back  with  us.  He's  been  going  to 
school  in  New  York,  and  is  going  again.  He  says  he'll 
take  us  to  San  Antonio,  and  show  us  the  A'lamo,  where 
Davy  Crocket  was  killed,  and  the  old  Cathedral  in  the 
plaza,  which  is  nearly  two  hundred  years  old,  and  was 
built  by  the  Spaniards.  He  can  talk  Mexican,  and  says 
that  star  wano  (esta  bueno)  means  bully.  He's  a  star 
wano  fellow,  and  Johnny  and  I  want  to  go  out  and  see 
him  and  Texas." 

"When  Johnny  was  a  small  bad  boy,"  said  Captain 
Gale,  taking  the  pipe  from  his  mouth,  "  he  once  took  a 
notion  to  set  up  an  interminable  howl  for  the  moon.  His 
mother  very  properly  gave  him  a  spanking  and  put  him 
to  bed.  Cassel  Rapid  is  a  generous  little  fellow,  and  you 
should  both  thank  him  by  letter ;  but  if  I  hear  any  more 
of  Texas  from  either  of  you,  I'll  spank  you  to  bed  myself;" 
and  the  captain"  wound  up  his  threat  with  a  three-decker 
laugh,  in  which  he  was  joined  by  the  boys,  notwithstand 
ing  they  saw  their  panorama  of  Western  travel  fade  away 
as  the  colors  of  a  summer  evening  sky. 

Four  years  have  passed  away,  without  memorable  event 
in  Creswood,  since  Johnny  Gale  and  Carroll  May  had 
projected  a  trip  to  Texas.  The  two  boys  were  nearly 
grown,  and  had  arrived  at  that  plump  and  happy  age 
which  immediately  precedes  the  time  when  the  mind 
begins  to  prey  upon  the  flesh :  the  time  at  which  thought 
makes  a  preliminary  survey  of  the  face,  and  registers 


70  TEKEL, 

where  it  will  dig  its  furrows  in  the  future.  Carroll's  hair 
was  brown,  his  eyes  dark  gray,  and  altogether  he  was  a 
handsome  and  intelligent  young  fellow.  His  greatest 
fault  was  that  of  his  readiness  to  take  offense  at  imaginary 
slights,  but  this  may  be  partly  excused  on  account  of  his 
condition, — that  of  a  child  of  charity.  He  was  destined 
for  the  Law,  in  anticipation  of  which  Captain  Gale  had 
preserved  for  him  the  library  of  lawyer  May,  which  was 
comprehensive,  unique,  and  invaluable.  Carroll  was  not 
so  tall  as  his  father  had  been,  but  bid  fair  to  be  as  tall  in 
his  profession,  for  he  was  an  assiduous  searcher.  He 
never  passed  a  word  in  any  sort  of  reading  if  he  was  not 
satisfied  of  its  signification.  He  would,  when  in  doubt  or 
ignorance,  consult  Walker,  Webster,  and  even  as  quaint 
an  authority  as  old  Bailey. 

Johnny  Gale  had  grown  to  be  a  young  Hercules. 
Though  not  over  eighteen  years  of  age,  he  was  taller  than 
his  father.  He  was  the  picture  of  rustic  health,  with  his 
blue-black  hair,  dark  eyes  like  his  mother's,  ruddy  cheeks, 
and  face  as  pleasant  as  good  tidings.  Having,  at  the 
Creswood  school,  excelled  in  mathematics,  he  had  been 
destined  to  become  a  civil  engineer;  the  result  of  a  con 
ference  between  Captain  Gale  and  Mr.  Hope. 

Caddy  Gale  had  grown  up  almost  a  tomboy,  but  she 
was  an  agreeable  self-acting  little  maid,  with  a  charming 
little  love-trap  of  a  dimple  in  her  right  cheek. 

Of  Cora  Glencoe  we  must  speak  hereafter. 

About  this  time,  there  were  rumors  flying  around  Cres 
wood  that  something  very  unusual  and  alarming  had 
happened  to  the  Rapid  family  out  in  Texas  ;  that  Mr. 
Rapid  was  killed,  and  his  home  otherwise  terribly  visited. 
Indian  raids,  Mexicans,  freebooters,  neighborhood  feuds, 
and  other  causes,  were  conjectured  and  ascribed,  and  a 
state  of  uncertainty  enhanced  the  interest  of  Mr.  Rapid's 
old  friends  and  acquaintances,  until  Mr.  Hope  announced 
from  the  pulpit  that  he  had  been  killed  by  marauding 
Indians,  Mr.  Hope  and  Mr.  Rapid  had  corresponded 
regularly  up  to  the  time  of  Mr.  Rapid's  death,  which 
event  was  not  altogether  an  idle  tale  to  the  community  of 
Creswood,  for  outside  of  the  families  of  Mr.  Hope  and 
Captain  Gale  was  many  an  old  woman  who  shook  her 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  U 

head  with  terrific  solemnity  and  import,  while  muttering 
something1  about  "them  Injuns." 

This  brings  us  up  to  the  reception,  by  Mr.  Hope,  of  the 
letter  from  young  Cassel  Rapid,  referred  to  in  the  begin 
ning  of  our  second  chapter. 

It  is  possible,  right  here,  that  the  author  may  be  accused 
of  following  the  example  of  the  foolish  hen,  which  laid  her 
eggs  first,  and  built  her  nest  afterwards.  If  so,  we  can 
only  ask  a  suspension  of  condemnation  until  the  sequel 
proves  whether  or  not  the  eggs  have  turned  out  live 
chickens. 

Garland  Hope,  who  was  now  a  grown  man,  and  a 
worthy  successor  of  his  father,  would  be  ready  in  the 
course  of  a  few  months  to  take  the  old  minister's  place  in 
the  pulpit.  He  had  already,  with  the  assistance  of  his 
elder  sister,  superseded  Mr.  Hope  in  the  school-room,  and 
had  given  universal  satisfaction.  He  would  doubtless 
give  equal  satisfaction  in  the  pulpit.  As  Mr.  Hope  was 
now  an  old  man,  his  sermons  were  growing  a  little  stale 
with  age  and  the  inevitable  monotony  begotten  of  twenty- 
five  years'  service  in  the  same  field ;  and  there  were  many 
who  were  not  loth  for  the  young  minister  to  make  his 
debut.  Garland  was  an  exemplary  young  man ;  not  one 
of  the  sinless  and  super-saintly  kind,  but  a  youth  who 
knew  his  way  and  walked  gracefully  therein.  There  was 
too  much  genuine  humility  in  his  soul  for  him  ever  to  have 
professed  sanctification,  if  his  creed  would  have  allowed 
any  such  sacrilege.  Mr.  Hope,  the  father,  having  good 
material  to  begin  with,  had  built  up  his  son's  character 
from  infancy  with  tender,  utmost  care,  and  he  had  the 
gratification,  when  retiring  from  the  field  himself,  of  giving 
to  the  world  another  worker,  who  had  the  nerve  to  dare 
what  was  right,  and  the  grace  to  spurn  what  was  wrong. 
Such,  briefly,  was  Garland  Hope,  with  this  addition,  that 
he  was  a  plain-looking  young  man,  w"hose  manners  and 
comely  conduct  alone  made  him  handsome. 

Time,  that  untiring  and  indomitable  fugitive,  who  is 
ever  going — ever  coming — and  ever  at  hand,  like  the  belt 
which  communicates  motion  to  machinery  and  keeps  it 
whirling  and  clicking  monotonously,  had  added  two  more 
years  of  routine  and  monotony  to  Creswood,  during  which 


72  TEKEL, 

Carroll  May  came  to  be  regarded  as  a  young  lawyer 
worthy  of  small  fees,  and  Johnny  Gale  as  an  embryo  en 
gineer,  who  was  preparing  to  wake  up  the  surrounding 
forests  and  crags  with  the  snort  of  a  locomotive. 

It  was  on  a  pleasant  day  in  the  spring-time  when  Johnny 
was  out  among  the  Creswood  hills  with  his  instruments, 
running  experimental  courses.  Carroll  May,  for  exercise, 
had  gone  out  with  him,  flagging  for  him,  and  otherwise 
assisting  him.  Captain  Gale  was  at  the  cottage,  idle.  He 
had  contracted  for  a  new  Whitecap,  his  old  one  having  be 
come  both  too  old  and  too  small  for  bis  expanding  projects. 
He  was  waiting  with  bis  customary  serenity  to  learn,  by 
message  from  the  contractors,  that  his  new  boat  was  ready 
to  launch.  The  time  for  launching  was  overdue,  for  Cap 
tain  Gale  had  bargained  with  himself  to  be  ready  for  the 
opening  of  the  spring  traffic.  But  he  was  now  well  to  do, 
and  the  loss  of  a  trip  or  so  did  not  disturb  his  equanimity, 
or  increase  his  allowance  of  grog.  As  usual,  he  was  sit 
ting  upon  his  portico  ;  for  he  loved  to  look  at  the  ocean. 
He  considered  himself  a  wind-and-water-made  man,  and 
felt  grateful  to  every  sweep  of  wind,  and  every  billow  of 
brine.  While  he  watched  the  dimpling  sea,  which  here 
and  there  white-capped  a  culminating  wave,  he  heard  a 
clear,  manly  voice,  at  the  rear  of  the  island,  sing  out, — 

"  Gale  Island,  ahoy  there  1" 

Going  to  the  customary  crossing  place,  he  saw  upon  the 
opposite  shore  a  well-dressed,  prepossessing,  youthful  fig 
ure,  whose  voice  shouted  across  the  water, — 

"  Good-morning,  Captain  Gale.  I  am  glad  to  see  you 
well,  sir." 

"  Who  are  you  ?"    demanded  the  captain. 

"  A  chieftain  to  the  island  bound ;  come  ferry  me  over 
the  water,"  was  the  response. 

Captain  Gale  crossed  over,  and  the  young  gentleman, 
without  ceremony  "stepped  into  the  skiff  and  offered  his 
hand. 

"  Excuse  me,  Captain  Gale,"  said  the  stranger,  with  a 
very  pleasant,  youthful  frankness,  "  but  you  do  look  so 
natural  and  familiar  ;  just  as  when  you  used  to  bring  me 
shells  aiid  oranges.  Do  you  recall  me  ?" 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  73 

"I  do  not,"  replied  the  captain,  scrutinizing  the  face  of 
the  stranger. 

"  Take  a  good  look." 

"  Wait  until  we  land,"  said  Captain  Gale. 

Upon  the  island  shore,  the  captain  scanned  from  head 
to  foot  the  young  stranger,  whose  fair,  heroic  countenance, 
with  a  pleasant  smile,  invited  the  perplexed  captain  to  take 
thorough  observations. 

"  I'm  at  fault,"  finally  and  reluctantly  admitted  Captain 
Gale.  "  I  do  not  know  you.  But  I  know  this,  that  I  never 
saw  as  fine  a  lad.  I  thought  my  own  boys  about  the  best 
specimens  afloat,  but  if  you  are  what  you  look  to  be,  you 
can  come  the  top-gallant  over  either  of  them.  Who  are 
you  ?" 

Captain  Gale  had  spoken  the  truth  :  he  had  never  seen 
so  fine  a  "  lad."  The  stranger  was  apparently  about  twenty- 
one  or  two,  and  might  have  stood  for  a  statue  of  Apollo. 
His  countenance,  compared  with  ordinary  faces,  reminded 
one  of  the  difference  between  cut  and  moulded  glass,  or 
chiseled  marble  and  plaster  cast.  His  hair  was  a  bronze, 
which  the  sunbeam  burnished  to  deep  gold.  His  face  was 
manly,  beautiful,  and  brave ;  and  his  violet  eyes,  which 
were  pure  as  azure  and  as  bright  as  a  star,  should  have  be 
longed  to  some  high-spirited  and  lovely  girl.  About  him 
was  the  grace  of  a  trained,  though  unaffected,  youthful  ath 
lete,  and  as  he  stood  before  the  captain,  with  his  hat  off  and 
dressed  in  a  gentleman's  suit  of  light  woolen  gray, — spring 
attire, — the  old  mariner  thought  him  the  very  image  of 
blonde  beauty  and  manliness.  In  answer  to  Captain  Gale's 
question  of  "  Who  are  you  ?"  he  said, — 

"  Now,  captain,  if  Mrs.  Gale  is  at  home,  I'll  bet  you  a 
thimbleful  of  gallinippers  that  she  knows  me." 

"  I  believe  there's  no  statute  against  such  a  wager,"  said 
the  captain,  laughing,  "  and  I'll  take  it.  Come  in." 

"  I'll  beat  you,  captain,"  said  the  youth,  pleasantly. 
"  Don't  you  know  that  the  feminine  instinct,  memory,  and 
eye  are  each  more  acute  than  the  masculine  ?" 

"  Yes,  in  matters  of  dress,  colors,  gossip,  and  the  like, 
but  not  in  questions  of  fact  and  import." 

Captain  Gale  introduced  the  visitor  to  his  cottage,  and 
7 


f4  TEKEL, 

into  the  room  where  Mrs.  Gale  was  sitting  at  work  with 
her  needle.  She  raised  her  head  and  looked  at  the  stranger. 
Her  countenance,  in  turn,  expressed  investigation,  appre 
hension,  and  conviction,  and  simultaneously  with  convic 
tion  she  hastily  left  her  chair,  and,  almost  embracing  the 
young  man,  cried, — 

"  Gracious  me  !  if  this  isn't  Pony  Kapid!" 

"What!  Cassel!"  shouted  Captain  Gale.  "It's  a  fact. 
Why  couldn't  I  see  it  at  first  ?"  and  taking  both  of  Cas- 
sel's  hands,  he  shook  them  heartily.  "  Bless  me,  Cassel, 
what  a  fine  lad  you've  grown." 

"  Let's  hear  from  you,  Mrs.  Gale,"  said  Cassel,  with  a 
free  young  laugh. 

"  I  shall  not  repeat  what  many  a  silly  girl  has  doubtless 
told  you,"  replied  Mrs.  Gale,  merrily. 

"  I  see  you  are  not  in  the  habit  of  proving  what  you 
say  by  your  wife,"  said  Cassel,  turning  blithely  to  Captain 
Gale.  Then  addressing  Mrs.  Gale,  he  asked,  "  How  did 
you  recognize  me  so  readily  ?" 

"I  do  not  know.  It  was  like  a  flash.  I  doubt  if  I 
could  do  it  again  if  my  life  depended  on  it." 

"Captain,"  said  Cassel  humorously,  "you  had  better 
spread  your  nets  for  that  thimbleful  of  gallinippers,"  and 
he  apprised  Mrs.  Gale  of  the  wager.  "  But  where  are  the 
boys  and  Caddy  ?  They  must  be  nearly  grown." 

"  Johnny  and  Carroll  are  out  in  the  woods  surveying. 
Caddy  is  over  to  see  Rebecca  Ruthven,  an  old  school 
mate." 

"  I  should  like  so  much  to  have  seen  them,"  said  Cassel, 
"because  1  leave  Creswood  immediately  after  dinner.  I 
am  stopping  with  Mr.  Hope,  and  have  been  here  several 
days ;  but  I  arrived  in  the  night,  and  have  not  been  about 
any,  from  the  fact  that  I  did  not  wish  my  visit  to  be 
known,  because  I  have  not  time  now  to  see  my  old  friends, 
and  they  might  think  that  I  had  forgotten  them  as  clearly 
as  some  of  them  have  forgotten  me,"  and  Cassel  glanced 
slyly  at  Captain  Gale.  "  But  I  anticipate  calling  again, 
and  making  a  general  tour  of  Creswood.  By-the-way, 
are  you  all  as  quiet  here  as  ever?" 

"Fully  as  quiet,"  answered  Captain  Gale.  "What 
surprises  me  is  that  your  arrival  is  not  within  the  knovvl- 


OR   CORA    GLEN  CO  E.  75 

edge  of  every  one,  for  here  it  is  an  event  for  a  stranger  to 
be  seen." 

"  Are  there  no  other  strangers  in  the  neighborhood  ?" 

"Not  at  present.  A  short  time  ago  there  was  a  man 
here,  who,  by-the-by,  is  no  stranger  to  you,  for  he  went 
out  to  Texas  with  you  ;  but  he  is  not  here  now." 

"  Who  is  he  ?"  asked  young  Rapid. 

"  Jonas  Aiken." 

Cassel  averted  his  face ;  a  terrible  frown  passed  over  it, 
and  his  eyes  glittered  like  burnished  steel. 

"  Does  he  make  his  home  here  ?"  he  finally  asked,  turn 
ing  to  Captain  Gale  with  recovered  countenance. 

"  He  was  with  the  men  who  occupy  the  huts  down  on 
the  Starboard  Strand,  several  miles  below  this.  It  is  hard 
to  tell  where  any  of  them  make  their  home,  for  they  are 
here  to-day  and  gone  to-morrow." 

The  use  of  the  word  "home"  reminds  us  that  Mr.  Hope 
had  christened  his  place  "  Gift  Home,"  apropos  of  the 
rare  title  by  which  he  held  it. 

For  the  present  we  must  follow  Cassel  Rapid.  He 
went  from  Creswood  to  the  city  of  New  York,  where,  in 
a  short  time,  he  received  a  letter  from  Mr.  Hope.  Half 
an  hour  after  the  receipt  of  this  letter,  he  stepped  into  a 
Jew  banking-house,  Sarazzin  &  Sarazzin,  father  and  son. 
Jepthah  Sarazzin,  the  son,  a  young  man  about  Cassel's 
age,  met  him  cordially.  Cassel  had  once  saved  Jepthah's 
life  by  an  intrepid  action,  and  Jepthah,  by  one  of  the  most 
brilliant  strokes  of  finance  on  record,  had  subsequently 
saved  the  greater  portion  of  Cassel's  fortune, — out  in  the 
wilds  of  Texas.  Each  felt  under  obligations  to  the  other. 
How  this  double  rescue  fell  out  we  promise  to  relate, 
should  we  have  space. 

"Jepthah,"  said  Cassel,  taking  out  a  memorandum-book 
and  pencil,  "  what  is  the  name  of  that  detective  of  whom 
you  were  telling  me  the  other  day  ?" 

"  His  name  is  Hector  O'Dare." 

"  Is  he  well  named  ?"  asked  Cassel. 

"  Yes  ;  he  will  dare  anything,  or  hector  anything,  in  his 
line." 

"  Is  he  keen  ?" 

"Keen  as  a  cambric  needle.    Give  him  a  bag  of  feathers, 


fg  TEKEL, 

and  give  him  time,  and  he  will  produce  the  geese  from 
which  the  feathers  were  plucked." 

"  Or  the  persons  that  roasted  them.    But  is  he  reliable  ?" 

"Perfectly.  Mind  you,  he  is  a  private  detective,  not 
an  officer,  or  policeman.  But  he  has  the  best  nose  that 
ever  smelt  for  missing  money  or  a  missing  man.  Say 
that  this  bank  should  be  robbed  to-night  of  a  hundred 
thousand.  I  would  check  on  O'Dare  for  ninety-five  thou 
sand,  tell  him  to  find  the  hundred  and  keep  the  odd  five, 
and  proceed  to  business  by  bank  hours  in  the  morning, 
with  the  latter  small  amount  in  deficit  only." 

"  Hyperbole,"  said  Cassel,  smiling. 

"The  weapon  of  my  race,  in  dealing  with  Gentiles," 
returned  Jepthah,  laughing. 

"  Where  is  Hector  O'Dare  ?" 

"  He's  now  in  Boston." 

"  Can  you  give  me  his  address  ?" 

"  No ;  but  any  of  the  police  can  tell  you  where  to  find 
him." 

"  The  police  here,  or  in  Boston  ?" 

"  I  mean  in  Boston." 

"  When  will  he  return  to  New  York?" 

"  Can't  say." 

"Do  you  know  him  well,  personally  ?" 

"  Yes.     Do  you  wish  a  letter  of  commendation  ?" 

"I  do ;  and  would  like  for  you  to  assure  him  of  the 
respectability  of  my  bank  balance." 

In  a  few  minutes  Jepthah  presented  Cassel  with  a  docu 
ment  which  he  said  would  sufficiently  establish  him  in 
O'Dare's  confidence. 

Cassel  Rapid  started  for  Boston  on  the  first  train.  A 
few  hours  before  reaching  that  city  an  incident  occurred, 
examples  of  which  were,  at  that  time,  almost  exclusively 
confined  to  the  East,  but  which  are  now  growing  common 
throughout  America.  An  old  lady,  with  a  little  child  in 
her  arms,  probably  a  grandchild,  got  aboard  at  a  way- 
station,  and  came  into  the  car  in  which  Cassel  was  seated, 
and  of  which  every  seat  was  occupied.  Standing  at  the 
entrance,  she  gazed  about  through  her  glasses,  in  search 
of  a  resting-place.  No  gentleman  offered  her  a  seat, 
though  it  was  evident  that  she  actually  needed  one. 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  77 

Cassel  Rapid,  who  had  not  got  accustomed  to  going 
through  life  on  pure  business  principles,  observed  to  the 
gentleman  who  sat  at  his  left  and  immediately  beside  him, — 

"  I'm  going  to  exchange  places  with  that  old  lady." 

"  Pshaw !"  said  the  gentleman.  "  Let  the  conductor  find 
her  a  seat ;  it's  his  business." 

Cassel,  however,  smilingly  got  up,  and  walking  down 
the  car-way,  said  to  the  grandmother, — 

"  Madam,  allow  me  to  offer  you  what  you  stand  in  need 
of, — a  seat." 

The  old  lady  regarded  him  with  benevolent  surprise,  but 
thanked  him  kindly,  and  permitted  him  to  lead  her  along 
the  aisle.  Following  this  incident  came  a  sequel  not  antici 
pated  by  Cassel  or  any  one  else.  While  Cassel  was  gallant 
ing  grandmother  to  her  resting-place,  a  side-whiskered,  ur- 
ban-lookiog  native,  who,  in  appearance,  was  as  "  peart"  as  a 
fly-catcher,  and  who  had  been  standing,  slipped  into  the 
vacant  seat,  and  turned  his  back  toward  the  aisle,  as  a 
kind  of  strategic  position.  But  Cassel  tapped  him  and 
observed, — 

"  Sir,  you  have  my  seat." 

"Your  seat!"  replied  the  urban,  turning  about  with  an 
immense  amount  of  manufactured  amazement. 

"  You  will  be  kind  enough  to  let  this  lady  have  it  in  my 
stead,"  said  Cassel,  paying  no  attention  to  his  exclamatory 
amazement. 

"  I  don't  recognize  your  title,  sir,"  said  the  urban.  "  I 
found  this  seat  vacant." 

"  And  you  shall  leave  it  as  you  found  it,"  said  Cassel, 
taking  Mr.  Urbs  by  the  arm,  and  forcibly  withdrawing  him. 
The  much-injured  gentleman  strained  himself  up  to  his  ut 
most  inch,  and,  with  a  most  terrific  expression  of  counte 
nance,  seemed  about  to — say  something.  Cassel  smiled  in 
his  face  with  provoking  placidity.  Urbs  wheeled  about 
and  rushed  out  of  the  car,  intimating  by  vehement  gestures 
that  he  would,  as  soon  as  he  came  back,  make  his  power 
felt  in  some  extraordinary  manner,  and  with  tremendous 
force;  which  he  doubtless  would  have  done  if  he  had  come 
back. 

"  Sir,"  said  a  feminine  voice  immediately  on  the  right 
hand  of  where  Cassel  was  patiently  standing.  Cassel 

7* 


78  TEKEL, 

turned  about.     "  You  can  have  a  seat  with  me  if  you  will 
hold  my  little  son  time  about." 

Cassel  accepted  the  offer,  and  while  he  was  conducting 
a  conversation  with  the  child,  he  overheard  another  con 
versation  behind  him  not  intended  for  his  ear.  It  was  be 
tween  two  ladies. 

"But  it  is  not  strictly  a  lack  of  gallantry,"  said  one 
voice.  "  It  is  a  sort  of  business  or  commercial  custom  which 
has  been  gaining  ground  here  since  the  days  of  the  Revo 
lution,  but  which  is  never  carried  into  society.  And  now 
that  the  women,  some  of  them  at  least,  talk  of  setting  up 
for  themselves,  the  custom  that  one  man  is  as  good  as  one 
woman,  and,  if  he  happensto.be  ahead  of  her,  is  that  much 
better,  will  become  a  universal  practice." 

"  Who  talks  about  setting  up  for  themselves  ?" 

"  They  are  just  beginning  to  talk  about  it." 

"  What  do  they  wish  to  do  ?" 

"  Vote,  hold  office,  go  to  Congress,  and  play  old  Nick 
generally,  as  the  men  do." 

"  My  stars  1    Who  ever  heard  of  such  a  thing  !" 

"  Who  ever  heard  of  the  telegraph  before  its  time  ?  When 
I  read  the  newspapers  and  see  how  the  men  carry  on,  I 
sometimes  think  that  the  women  could  do  better ;  and  then 
I  think  again  that  they  would  turn  the  country  heels  over 
head,  for  I  never  saw  two  women  agree  who  were  com 
pelled  to  occupy  the  same  house.  And  then  what  we  call 
our  prerogatives  would  vanish,  for  you  may  be  sure  that 
no  man  will  ever  recognize  a  petticoat  in  a  pair  of  panta 
loons." 

"  But  for  a  woman  to  come  out  in  public,  and  attempt 
to  do  public  business,  or  make  a  speech  ;  why,  I  should 
think  she  would  faint  away  and  never  come  to  again.  I 
know  I  should." 

"  But  there  are  those  who  would  not.  For  example, 
there  is  one  just  ahead  of  you  ;  that  one  with  the  short 
hair  and  Byron  collar,  who  speaks  in  Boston  to-night." 

"  Oh,  horrid  !  What  can  possibly  be  the  name  of  such 
a  creature  ?" 

"  She  is  one  of  our  celebrities, — Miss  Delilah  Hotseat. 
She  can  tell  all  she  knows  a  half  a  dozen  times  in  as  many 
minutes,  and  tell  it  with  greater  emphasis  every, time. 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  79 

She's  a  regular  jimplecute,  shearing  the  locks  from  the  men 
and  making  their  seats  too  hot  to  hold  them." 
"  What  does  she  talk  about  ?" 
"  Women's  Rights,  and  women's  Wrongs." 
"But  why  don't  each  woman  get  her  husband  to  favor 
what  she  wants,  and  then  there  would  be  no  need  of  this  ?" 
"  Each  woman  get  some  other  woman's  husband,  you'd 
better  say,"  was  the  merry  reply.  "  No  ;  if  they  get  what 
they  want,  pr  pretend  to  want,  they  will  have  to  do  it  by 
public  clamor  and  private  bribery.  Suppose,  for  instance, 
that  a  married  woman  should  approach  her  husband  on 
the  subject.  Old  Cross-sticks  would  look  over  his  specta 
cles  and  say,  '  Why,  damn  it,  Mary,  you  wear  the  breeches 
now  !  What  the  devil  more  do  you  want?' — Or  be  would 
palaver,  '  My  dearest  dear,  if  all  the  women  were  like  you, 
it  would  be  the  thing :  but  except  my  dearest  ducky  of  a 
wifey,  I  would  not  be  willing  to  trust  one  of  them,  the  de 
ceitful  things  !'  and  so  it  goes,  don't  you  see  ?  Again, 
unless  the  men  themselves  advocate  women's  rights,  you 
might  just  as  well  try  to  bail  a  raft  as  try  to  change  the 
'status'  as  they  call  it.  And  no  man  is  going  to  advo 
cate  these  rights  for  his  wife's  sake,  for  each  lord  is  some 
what  of  the  opinion  that  his  lady  enjoys  all  the  rights 
she's  entitled  to.  Therefore,  when  a  man  does  break  ground 
on  the  weak  side  of  this  new  issue,  you  can  set  it  down 
that  he  has  found  an  overweakness  in  it  somewhere  ;  that 
somebody's  wife  or  somebody's  old  maid  has  something  to 
do  with  it ;  in  fact,  that  there's  something  rotten  in  the 
state  of  Denmark,  and  he'd  better  not  have  a  jealous  wife 
at  home,  I  can  tell  you.  I'm  not  overly  inclined  to  be  jeal 
ous,  but  let  me  catch  my  old  rooster  of  a  husband  cuch-a- 
cawing  around  these  stray  hens,  and  if  I  don't  give  him  a 
sprinkling  of  woman's  rights,  he'll  have  nothing  to  thank 
but  his  shroud."  Two  merry  voices  mingled  in  laughter, 
and  the  subject  was  discontinued,  much  to  the  regret  of 
Cassel  Rapid,  who  had  been  an  amused  listener.  Cassel 
formed  the  double  resolution  that,  primarily,  he  would  en 
deavor  not  to  get  him  a  jealous  wife,  and,  secondarily, 
should  he  get  him  a  wife  at  all,  never  to  be  moved  into  es 
pousing  the  dangerous  cause  by  any  woman's  convincing 
argument  but  that  of  his  own  esposa. 


80  TEKEL, 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

IT  was  dusk  when  Cassel  Rapid  reached  Boston.  The 
following  day  was  the  Sabbath.  He  strolled  out  into  the 
city,  which  was  exceedingly  quiet,  and,  in-  comparison 
with  other  large  cities  upon  the  seventh  day,  appeared 
almost  deserted.  Cassel,  who  was  constitutionally  a 
devotee,  rather  liked  this  stately  calm,  so  meet  for  medita 
tion,  so  suggestive  of  the  holy  sanctuary  of  the  week,  and 
so  appropriate  to  it. 

Standing  upon  a  corner,  he  gazed  indolently  up  and 
down  the  streets,  while  a  feeling  of  pensiveness  and  lone 
liness  stole  into  his  heart ;  for  he  was  alone  in  the  wide, 
wide  world.  With  absent,  dreamy  thoughts,  he  drew  out 
a  cigar-case,  opened  it,  made  a  selection,  returned  the  case 
to  his  pocket,  bit  off  the  end  of  his  cigar,  spat  it  out, 
fingered  for  a  match  in  his  vest  pocket,  found  one,  and 
was  about  to  strike  it,  when  he  was  interrupted  by  a  tap 
on  the  shoulder,  and  a  voice  which  said, — 

"  Can't  smoke  here,  sir." 

Without  turning  about  to  see  by  whom  or  what  he  was 
interrupted,  Cassel  observed, — 

"  I  reckon  I  can  try." 

"  Guess  you  can't  try,"  was  the  response. 

"Nosefuma?"  said  Cassel. 

"I  don't  understand  you,"  said  the  policeman. 

"  Neither  do  I  understand  you,"  replied  Cassel,  casting 
about  and  taking  an  observation  of  a  person  whom  he 
considered  an  intruder. 

"Do  you  know  where  you  are ?" 

"  I  went  to  bed  last  night  in  Boston :  I  presume  I  waked 
up  this  morning  in  the  same  place." 

"  You  are  a  stranger  here,  are  you  ?" 

"Ah,  I  understand  you,"  said  Cassel,  provokingly. 
"  You  come  to  tender  me  the  hospitalities  of  the  city. 
About  what  time  does  the  mayor  dine  ?" 


OR   CORA    GLEN  CO  E.  81 

"  No,  sir.  I  come  to  tell  you  that  you  cannot  smoke  in 
Boston." 

"  You  are  jesting,"  said  Cassel,  with  a  smile. 

The  policeman  scowled  at  him. 

"  Are  you  positively  in  earnest  ?  And  is  this  a  freak 
of  your  own  merely,  or  a  prank  of  your  municipality  ?" 

The  policeman  continued  to  scowl. 

"  Will  you  then  permit  me,"  asked  Cassel,  "to  burn  my 
tobacco  on  a  chip  and  smell  of  the  smoke  ?" 

The  policeman  scowled  yet  more  sternly. 

"  I'll  get  out  of  your  beat,  polly,  if  I  have  to  travel  all 
day  ;"  and  Cassel  threw  his  cigar  in  the  gutter.  Two 
sharp-set  urchins  immediately  pounced  upon  the  prohibited 
luxury,  and  struggled  for  possession. 

Cassel  sauntered  away.  He  was  followed  by  the  two 
urchins,  one  of  whom,  overtaking  him,  accosted  him  with, 
"  Want  to  buy  a  Testament  ?"  at  the  same  time  slyly  half 
disclosing  a  lewd  illustration  of  an  obscene  book. 

"  Clear  out,  you  young  imp,  or  I'll  spank  the  iniquity 
out  of  you  !"  said  Cassel,  disgusted  at  this  juvenile 
depravity. 

Having  walked  several  squares,  Cassel  halted  on 
another  corner.  With  the  view  of  making  a  toothpick, 
he  opened  a  penknife  and  began  to  shave  one  end  of  the 
match  with  which  he  had  contemplated  lighting  his  cigar, 
and  which  he  still  retained  between  his  fingers.  Pretty 
soon  another  policeman  accosted  him. 

"  Stranger  here,  sir  ?" 

"  Partly." 

"  Thought  so.  You  musn't  make  this  litter  on  the 
pavement." 

"  Litter !  I'm  only  making  a  toothpick." 

"  Can't  help  it :  regulations,  you  know." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  I  am  violating  a  city  ordi 
nance?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  Then  I  am  mistaken.  I  stopped  off  at  the  wrong 
place.  I  thought  I  was  in  Boston." 

"  You  are  in  Boston." 

"Is  it  possible,  then,  that  a  man  can't  make  a  toothpick 
in  the  paradise  of  a  whole  nation  of  whittlers  ?" 


82  TEKEL, 

"  Let  me  see  the  size  of  that  weapon,"  said  the  police 
man. 

"  Weapon  !     You  are  blind:  'tis  but  a  penknife." 

"  Be  careful, — you  might  get  nabbed  for  carrying  con 
cealed  arms." 

"  It  is  not  concealed." 

"  You  had  better  close  it  and  carry  it  openly." 

"  You've  made  a  pun  of  it,  but  I'd  see  you  in " 

"  Hold  !"  cried  the  policeman,  "  or  you  will  compel  me 
to  arrest  you." 

"  Arrest  me !     For  what  ?" 

"  For  using  profane  language." 

"  You've  broken  the  camel's  back,  by  thunder !"  said 
Cassel,  laughing.  "  This  is  the  most  solemn  occasion  of 
my  existence.  Can't  you  enliven  it  a  little  by  singing  for 
me  that  good  old  song  of  '  Come  tickle  my  tail  with  a 
barley  straw,'  or  am  I  permitted  to  laugh  ?  Could  I,  if  I 
should  happen  upon  something  irresistibly  funny,  stick 
my  head  in  a  sewer,  or  under  a  goods  box,  and  have  a 
good  free  guffaw  all  to  myself,  without  risk  of  fine  or 
imprisonment  for  high  misdemeanor?  Or  is  the  very 
atmosphere  apportioned  here,  share  and  share  alike,  so 
that  no  man  can  take  a  long  breath,  or  expend  an  ounce 
by  laughing  out  of  time,  without  trespassing  on  the  muni 
cipal  rights  and  privileges  of  his  neighbors  ?  By-the-way, 
how  much  air  is  set  apart  here  by  your  city  council  for 
the  necessities  and  refreshment  of  the  stranger  ?  I  wish 
to  get  the  figures,  for  I  might  overbreathe  myself,  and  be 
put  to  the  trouble  and  expense  of  importing  a  score  or  two 
of  cubic  feet  to  fill  up  the  vacuum." 

A  broad,  open  smile  spread  over  the  policeman's  face 
(for  he  was  an  Irishman)  as  he  looked  at  the  handsome 
young  stranger  before  him. 

"  Old  fish,"  continued  Cassel,  with  that  current  audacity 
which  touring  begets,  "your  individual  style  strikes  me 
with  admiration  and  awe.  You'd  whip  out  his  Nether 
Majesty,  and  let  him  pick  his  own  charcoal.  You  are  a 
son  of  liberty, — a  lover  of  freedom,  endeavoring  to  over 
throw  this  municipal  despotism  by  making  it  odious.  I 
tell  you,  polly  (Cassel's  short  for  policeman),  this  place 
is  too  much  governed ;  stricter  than  a  Scotch  Sunday- 


OR   CORA    QLENCOE.  83 

school.  But  how  did  you  ever  get  to  be  a  Boston 
polly  ?" 

"Why  not?" 

"  Because  you  are  a  born  Irishman." 

"  How  know  you  ?" 

"  Not  altogether  from  your  speech  ;  but  from  the  poise 
of  your  head,  the  set  of  your  ears,  the  dip  of  your  under 
jaw,  and  by  that  unmistakable  embouchure  so  suggestive 
of  a  horn.  Apropos,  how  do  you  manage  to  get  your  regu 
lar  potteen  ?  I  understood  you  were  all  running  here  on 
snow-water  and  flaxseed-tea !  But  that  is  not  just  now 
the  main  question,  polly,  for  there  is  a  main  question,  and 
I  want  you  to  answer  it." 

"  What  is  it  ?" 

'•  Do  you  know  Mr.  Hector  O'Dare  ?" 

The  policeman  gave  a  quick  glance  of  inquiry  and  in 
terest  at  Cassel,  and  asked, — 

'•  Why  do  you  put  such  a  question  as  that  ?" 

"  It's  a  very  ordinary  question,  is  it  not  ?" 

"Yes.     But  why  do  you  ask  me?" 

"  Not  because  you  are  so  very  accommodating,  cer 
tainly,"  said  Cassel,  laughing.  "  But  whom  should  I  ask? 
I  know  nobody  here.  I  wish  to  find  O'Dare.  You  are  as 
likely  to  know  him,  and  know  where  he  is,  as  the  next 
man.  Am  I  to  hunt  all  over  the  city  for  a  man  who  looks 
as  if  he  knew  O'Dare,  before  asking  such  a  question  ?" 

"  Have  you  business  with  him  ?" 

"Yes." 

"  Is  it  important  ?" 

"Can  a  duck  swim?  Pshaw!  Do  you  know  O'Dare, 
or  do  you  not?  I  dare  you  to  say  yes  or  no." 

"Yes." 

"  Where  is  he  ?" 

"  In  Boston." 

"  I  already  know  as  much  ;  but  his  address  ?" 

"  You  can  address  him  through  me.  He  is  busy,  and 
may  not  wish  to — but  are  you  a  friend  of  his?  or  an  ac 
quaintance  ?" 

"  I  am  not.  But  I  have  use  for  him.  I  know  that  he 
is  here  working  up  a  case,  and  may  not  wish  to  be  dis 
turbed.  Here  are  my  credentials.  Examine  them,  and, 


84  TEKEL, 

when  convenient,  deliver  them  to  O'Dare,  and  request  him 
to  appoint  me  an  interview.  You  will  put  me  under  obli 
gations  to  you,  and  will  probably  be  doing  a  favor  to 
O'Dare.  What  say  you  ?" 

"I  couldn't  very  well  say  no." 

"  Not  if  you  are  an  Irishman.  Here  are  the  credentials. 
"When  shall  I  cross  your  beat  for  an  answer?" 

"  Meet  me  here  to-morrow  morning  at  ten  o'clock." 

"  Will  you  give  me  your  name?     You  have  mine." 

"  Flynn — Michael  Flynn." 

Cassel  made  a  note  of  it.  When  the  policeman  turned 
to  go  his  rounds,  the  youth  asked, — 

"  Can  a  man  chew  tobacco  here  ?" 

"  If  he  has  it,  and  don't  spit  on  the  pave,  or  throw  his 
quids  about." 

"  Don't  you  furnish  spittoons  ?  But  no  difference,  I 
never  chew  ;"  and  each  with  a  laugh  went  his  way. 

Walking  along,  Cassel  met  a  good-looking  servant-girl. 
Whether  he  winked  at  her  or  not  we  are  unable  to  say,  but 
she  cried, — 

"  What  do  ye  mean,  sir,  by  blinking  at  me  ?" 

"  There's  something  in  my  eye,"  said  Cassel. 

"  A  likely  story,"  retorted  the  girl  disdainfully ;  "  what's 
in  the  eye  of  ye  ?" 

"  A  pretty  girl,"  said  Cassel,  smiling. 

"  Ye  rogue,  ye!"  replied  the  girl,  appeased,  passing  on, 
and  casting  a  sly  glance  back  at  the  comely  youth. 

The  following  morning  Cassel  Rapid  met  Michael  Flynn 
on  his  beat.  The  latter  said, — 

"  O'Dare  will  meet  you  on  the  northeast  corner  of  Bond 
and  Gay  Streets  at  half-past  ten  o'clock  precisely." 

"  Where  is  that  ?" 

"  It  is  the  corner  of  this  block  diagonally  opposite  to 
where  we  nuw  stand.  Pass  half  way  round  the  block  and 
you  are  there." 

"  What  is  your  time  of  day  ?" 

"  You  have  an  hour  and  ten  minutes  to  spare.  Your 
letter  from  the  Sarazzins  was  satisfactory,  and  O'Dare  told 
me  in  his  behalf  to  offer  you  my  good  offices." 

"  I'm  obliged  to  you,  and  to  him,  and  will  avail  myself  of 
your  kindness  now.  The  weather,  Mr.  Flynn,  is  a  little 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  85 

warm,  and  I  would  like  to  have  a  sherry  cobbler,  or  a  glass 
of  beer,  or  something  of  the  sort.  I  rarely  ever  drink ; 
but,  by  thunder,  your  very  prohibition  here  makes  me  as 
dry  as  a  wooden  god!"" 

"  Oh,  well,"  replied  Flynn,  with  a  sly  smile,  "you  can 
get  pretty  much  what  you  want  if  you'll  only  be  a  little 
quiet  about  it ;"  and  Flynn  gave  Cassel  directions  where  to 
go  and  what  to  do  in  order  to  succeed  in  refreshing  him 
self.  But  just  as  Cassel  was  about  to  turn  away,  Flynn 
indifferently  asked  him  where  he  was  from. 

"  From  most  everywhere,"  said  Cassel,  "  east,  south, 
and  west, — New  York,  Maryland,  and  Texas." 

"  What  part  of  Texas  ?"  asked  Flynn. 

"The  Brazos." 

"  Did  you  know  many  people  out  there  ?" 

"Everybody  within  two  hundred  miles  of  Ranche 
Rapid." 

"  Ranche  Rapid  ?" 

"Yes.     Why  so  earnest?" 

"Jesus!  what's  O'Dare  thinking  about,  and  with  the 
letter  of  Sarazzin  in  his  pocket  ?  Come  with  me  ;"  and 
Flynn  took  Cassel  by  the  arm. 

"Am  I  to  consider  myself  under  arrest?"  asked  Cassel, 
with  some  surprise. 

"Arrest  1  No.  I'm  going  to  take  you  to  see  O'Dare 
without  waiting.  I  think  you  can  untie  a  knot." 

Cassel  went  with  the  policeman,  who  took  him  into  a 
building  and  to  a  secret  place,  and  gave  him  a  spy's 
view  of  an  apartment,  in  which  were  three  men  playing 
cards. 

"  That  is  O'Dare  with  his  face  this  way,"  said  Flynn. 

"  Why,  he's  beastly  drunk,"  said  Cassel,  with  a  feeling 
of  deep  disappointment. 

"Not  drunk  at  all.     He's  only  foxing." 

Cassel  gazed  a  moment,  with  increasing  interest ;  and 
then  turning  to  Flynn,  asked, — 

"  How  dfo  you  get  in  there  ?" 

*  "  By  this   door ;   but  you  mustn't  think  of  going .  in 
until  I  notify  O'Dare." 

"  But  I  do  think  of  going  in.  I  see  a  man  there  that  I 
want." 

8 


86  TEKEL, 

"  Which  one  ?" 

"  The  one  with  the  sandy  hair." 

"  Is  his  name  Gilders  ?"  asked  Flynn,  with  uncon 
cealed  interest.  "  If  it  is,  he  is  the  man  that  O'Dare  is 
after." 

Without  replying,  and  before  Flynn  could  prevent  him, 
Cassel  opened  the  door  and  stepped  into  the  room. 

O'Dare  was  a  man  of  thirty-seven  or  thirty-eight  years  of 
age,  about  five  feet  ten  incites  in  height,  well  and  actively 
built,  and  with  a  face  like  granite.  When  Cassel  entered 
the  room  the  detective's  hawk-like  eye  lit  up  during  the 
fraction  of  an  instant  from  its  pretended  drunkenness,  and 
something  like  a  frown  passed  over  his  face  ;  for  he  had 
seen  Flynn  close  the  door  after  young  Rapid,  and  thought 
that  the  policeman  was  intruding  the  young  man  upon 
him  all  out  of  time.  Cassel  walked  up  to  the  table  and 
confronted  the  man  with  the  sandy  hair.  As  each  gazed 
at  the  other,  there  was  a  world  of  difference  between 
their  countenances.  The  man  dropped  his  cards  and 
turned  pale.  Cassel,  in  a  voice  which  thrilled  even 
O'Dare's  veteran  heart  by  the  depth  of  its  sadness, 
said, — 

"  Gilders,  do  you  know  me  ?" 

The  man  dropped  his  gaze,  and  remained  silent. 

"  Deliver  to  me  that  certificate  of  deposit,  Gilders." 

Without  a  word  the  man  drew  out  a  wallet,  selected  a 
paper,  and  handed  it  to  young  Rapid. 

"  Gilders,  I  do  not  intend  to  have  you  arrested.  You 
know  why  it  is  that  I  spare  you." 

O'Dare  looked  keenly  and  inquiringly  at  Cassel,  who 
continued, — 

"  Have  you  any  money  ?" 

"  No,"  replied  Gilders. 

"  Is  there  pen  and  ink  here  ?"  asked  Cassel,  looking 
around. 

O'Dare,  who  still  maintained  his  drunken  character, 
took  from  a  pocket  of  his  coat  writing  materials,  observ 
ing  that  he  was  a  "local,"  and  always  carried  the  articles. 
Cassel  drew  a  check  for  five  hundred  dollars  on  Sarazzin 
&  Sarazzin,  and,  handing  it  to  Gilders,  said,  with  an  affec 
tionate  sternness, — 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  87 

"  Take  this,  and  go,  and  sin  no  more" 

The  man's  eyes  gushed  with  tears;  and,  in  a  voice  of 
earnestness  and  passion,  he  said, — 

"  Cassel,  you  are  the  noblest  boy  that  ever  drew  a 
breath.  Would  to  God  that  I  had  died,  or  had  your 
courage  when " 

"No  more,"  sternly  said  Cassel,  while  a  terrible  frown 
plowed  his  brow  with  furrows. 

"  I  ought  not  to  take  this,"  said  Gilders,  alluding  to  the 
money  check. 

"Take  it,"  said  Cassel,  "it  is  freely  given,  and  I  hope 
you  will  let  your  better  nature  predominate." 

Gilders  prepared  to  go.  Hesitating,  he  turned  to  young 
Rapid  and  said, — 

"  Tell  me  good-by,  Cassel,  and  give  me  your  hand.  I 
acknowledge  my  unworthiness,  but  will  try  to  be  a  better 
man. " 

"  On  that  condition,"  said  Cassel,  extending  his  hand, 
which  Gilders  wrung,  and  went  his  way. 

O'Dare  immediately  doffed  his  drunken  character,  and, 
turning  to  the  man  who  had  been  the  third  party  at  the 
card-table,  said, — 

"You  can  go." 

When  O'Dare's  understrapper  disappeared,  the  detective 
bowed  to  Cassel,  saying, — 

"  Mr.  Rapid,  if  I  am  not  mistaken  ?" 

"  Mr.  O'Dare,  likewise,"  said  Cassel,  with  a  return  bow. 
"Did  I  anticipate  you?"  and  young  Rapid  held  up  the 
certificate  which  he  had  taken  from  Gilders. 

"  Just  so,"  said  O'Dare. 

"Shall  I  keep  it,  or  you  take  it  ?!' 

"  Were  you  employed  to  recover  it  ?" 

"No.     But  I  knew  of  it." 

"  Then  I'll  take  it,"  said  the  detective. 

"  State  your  case,  and  show  your  authority." 

"The  case  is  this,"  said  O'Dare.  "John  R.  Lake,  of 
Ohio,  late  of  New  Orleans,  but  now  of  New  York  city, 
general  cattle-dealer,  bought  of  Cassel  Pontiac  Rapid,  of 
Rauche  Rapid,  Texas, — yourself,  by-the-by ;  but  I  did 
not  imagine  it  until  I  heard  Gilders  call  your  first  name, 
for  Sarazzin  only  mentions  you  as  Mr.  Rapid  of  New 


88  TEKEL, 

York, — some  four  thousand  head  of  cattle,  horned  cattle, 
and  horses.  Gilders,  your  old  herder, — and  I  was  neither 
certain  of  my  man  or  that  he  still  held  this  paper, — was 
in  charge  of  a  thousand  head  of  horned  cattle,  as  chief 
herder  for  Mr.  Lake.  He  sold  the  cattle  on  the  prairie, 
took  the  purchase  money,  went  to  New  Orleans,  put  it 
upon  special  deposit  under  an  alias.  Lake,  who  was 
away  in  San  Antonio,  followed  as  soon  as  he  learned  of 
the  robbery,  but  could  not  recover  the  money  from  bank 
without  producing  the  certificate  of  deposit,  or  catching 
the  depositor  and  convicting  him  of  the  robbery.  The 
cattle  had  been  marketed  in  Louisiana,  and  consequently 
were  out  of  reach.  This  money  remains  in  bank,  under 
an  injunction.  This  certificate  will  insure  the  surrender 
of  it  to  Mr.  Lake ;  and  now  that  I  think  of  it,  it  would 
probably  have  been  better  had  you  made  Gilders  transfer 
the  certificate.  That,  however,  is  not  essential.  Here  is 
my  authority  from  Mr.  Lake." 

Cassel,  being  thoroughly  satisfied,  handed  the  certificate 
to  O'Dare,  observing, — 

"  Lake  and  I  are  old  friends.  Gilders  was  my  chief 
herder.  He  could  have  served  me  as  he  did  Mr.  Lake, 
but  would  not,  at  least  did  not  do  it.  That,  however,  is 
not  the  reason  I  spared  him.  How  long  have  you  been  on 
this  case  ?  It's  nearly  six  months  old." 

"  Seven  weeks.  But  I  had  to  commence  at  New  Orleans, 
by  correspondence.  And  now,  Mr.  Rapid,  I  am  at  your 
service.  What  is  the  character  of  your  business  with  me  ?" 

"  I  expected  to  confer  with  you  in  a  private  room,  Mr. 
O'Dare  ;  but  it  seems  quiet  here,  and  there  is  no  need  of 
delay.  Preliminary  to  my  confiding  in  you,  I  will  ask 
whether  or  not  you  have  any  conscientious  scruples  in 
regard  to  the  death  penalty  ?" 

"  In  a  clear  case  I  have  none  whatever." 

In  the  conference  which  succeeded,  Cassel  Rapid  accom 
plished  the  object  of  his  visit  to  Boston,  and  he  and  the 
detective  went  upon  the  street  as  two  men  who  know  each 
other  well.  Young  Rapid  had  plowed  up  the  tough  breast 
of  the  detective  with  an  inherent,  imperial  power,  en 
hanced  by  external  incentive,  and  had  moved  upon  the  heart 
of  O'Dare  as  no  other  had  ever  moved  there. 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  89 

"  O'Dare,"  said  Cassel,  when  they  were  on  the  street, 
"  I  want  you  to  pilot  me  to  a  glass  of  lager  beer." 

"  Why,  dou't  you  know,"  said  O'Dare,  "  that  sweet  cider 
is  the  only  beverage  allowed  here  ?" 

"  The  only  legitimate,  court  beverage  ;  but  I  understand 
that  a  glass  of  beer,  a  cobbler,  or  most  anything,  can  be  had 
through  the  back  window." 

"  Such  as  it  is ;  for  those  who  persist  in  keeping  liquors 
can  afford  to  keep  only  the  most  villainous  and  worthless 
stuff,  for  fear  of  seizure.  Nearly  all  the  lager  beer  in  the 
city  has  been  from  cave  to  court  and  from  court  to  cave, 
the  mid-day  sun  shining  on  it  meantime.  The  joke  is,  that 
the  prohibitionists  go  and  get  drunk  on  cider,  the  court 
beverage,  and  then  organize  a  special  crusade  against  lager, 
overlooking,  on  their  march,  any  amount  of  high  wine  and 
N.  E.  rum.  But  I  will  take  you  to  an  illustrative  estab 
lishment,  not  far  from  here,  where  you  will  get  the  correct 
idea.-  In  the  room  fronting  the  street  you  will  find  openly 
for  sale  '  Sweet  Cider,'  made,  by-the-by,  from  decayed  late 
winter  apples.  To  the  rear  is  another  room,  which  you 
enter,  if  the  man  inside  at  the  spy-hole  is  satisfied,  after 
some  little  ceremony,  where  you  find  the  '  ardent.'  To  the 
rear  of  this  room  is  another,  to  be  entered  yet  more  cau 
tiously.  There  you  come  upon  the  terrible  destroyer,  lager 
beer,  chained  and  cowering  in  its  den.  The  whole  estab 
lishment  is  under  one  and  the  same  proprietorship.  But 
here  we  are  ;  come  in." 

"  What  will  you  have,  gentlemen  ?"  asked  the  keeper. 

"  Sherry  cobblers,"  said  O'Dare,  winkiug  at  Cassel. 

"  We  keep  no  intoxicating  liquors  whatever,"  asserted 
the  pious  keeper. 

"What  have  you  wherewithal  to  refresh  a  man  ?" 

"  Sweet  cider." 

"  Is  it  full  of  gripes  ?" 

"  Not  so  fresh  and  sweet  as  that.  It  has  tang  enough 
to  cut  the  phlegm." 

"  Let  us  taste  it." 

The  keeper  produced  his  cider.  O'Dare  tasted  it,  and 
turning  to  Cassel,  said, — 

"  If  a  man  should  drink  three  beer-mugs  of  this  he 
wouldn't  be  sober  again  for  a  week.  I  should  say  it 

8* 


90  TEKEL, 

would  cut  the  phlegm,  and  the  pigeon- wing  too,"  observed 
O'Dare  to  the  keeper. 

Making  their  way  to  the  first  rear  room,  O'Dare  called 
for  some  whisky.  A  bottle  and  glass  were  handed  out. 
Cassel  smelt  of  the  bottle,  and  turning  to  keeper  No.  2, 
asked, — 

"  What  do  you  call  this  ?" 

"  Whisky.    What  the  divil  else  is  it?"  demanded  No.  2. 

"1  should  take  it,"  said  Cassel,  laughing,  "to  be  a 
mixture  of  captured  lightning,  blue  vitriol,  and  lunar 
caustic." 

Room  No.  3  clandestinely  received  the  two  experiment 
alists,  and  Cassel  ordered  some  lager  beer.  It  was  drawn 
and  served  as  of  old.  Cassel  looked  at  the  foamless 
surface  of  it  and  said, — 

"  Hans,  this  won't  do  at  all.     It  is  too  old, — it's  stale." 

"  Ah  !"  said  Hans  innocently,  "  the  how  older  it  be  the 
so  better  it  was." 

"Have  you  no  beer,"  asked  O'Dare,  "that  has  never 
seen  a  court-room,  or  an  officer  of  the  Prohibition  ?" 

Hans  winked,  and  proceeded  to  draw  from  a  different 
keg.  The  lager  foamed  up  ambitiously  with  an  overflow 
ing  crest. 

"  Why,  Hans,  this  is  jolly,"  said  O'Dare,  lifting  his 
mug.  "  Gayer  than  a  young  Dutchman  with  his  coat  tail 
afire." 

"  Or  mit  bis  belly  full  of  sweet  cider,"  replied  Hans, 
with  a  sardonic  grin. 

Indulging  in  a  couple  of  mugs  each,  O'Dare  and  Cassel 
withdrew,  feeling  much  refreshed,  for  the  day  was  warm 
and  sultry.  The  first  train  carried  them  to  New  York. 

The  last  few  pages  are  not  the  less  illustrative  from 
embodying  an  anachronism. 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  91 


CHAPTER  IX. 

FARMER  MEDLEY  and  Bachelor  Boyd  owned  adjoining 
farms  in  one  of  the  oleaginous  districts  of  Pennsylvania, 
and  each  awoke  one  morning  to  find  himself  floating  in  oil. 

Wealth  came  upon  them  like  an  overflow.  They  had 
neighbored  harmoniously  for  many  years  as  petty  farmers, 
and  they  congratulated  each  other  most  heartily,  and  with 
out  envy,  upon  the  sudden  good  fortune  which  had  trans 
formed  them  into  magnates  of  the  land.  Bachelor  Boyd 
had,  for  a  year  or  so,  cast  covetous  glances  at  Malinda, 
eldest  daughter  of  Farmer  Medley,  and  taking  advantage 
of  that  enthusiasm  of  compliance  which  sudden  wealth 
begets,  he  cunningly  and  with  oily  tongue  approached 
Farmer  Medley,  and  importuned  the  pretty  Linda,  upon 
the  subject  next  his  heart,  and  which  had  furnished  him 
many  an  hour  of  solitary  cogitation. 

Between  two  such  well-oiled  families  as  the  Boyd  and 
the  Medley,  it  was  only  natural  to  anticipate  that  all 
matters,  whether  of  import  or  not,  would  work  smoothly. 
Therefore,  with  little  other  consideration  than  their  mutual 
family  respect,  their  common  good  fortune  and  good  pros 
pects,  a  Boyd-Medley  alliance  was  formed,  and  Linda 
became  Mrs.  Boyd. 

Bachelor  Boyd,  in  order  to  do  the  proper,  fashionable, 
and  wealthy  thing,  had,  prior  to  the  nuptials,  purchased  an 
elegant  residence  in  the  city  of  New  York, — Philadelphia 
not  being  sufficiently  gay  for  him, — on  one  of  the  hand 
some  streets  leading  into  Fifth  Avenue.  He  loved  Linda, 
and  the  few  gray  hairs  in  his  head  made  him  none  the 
less  romantic  and  rhapsodic  in  view  of  his  future  arrange 
ments.  It  was  decided  that  the  wedding  ceremony  should 
be  succeeded  by  a  gorgeous  dinner,  immediately  after 
which  a  carriage  should  take  them  to  the  nearest  rail 
road  depot,  from  whence  they  would  go  on  to  their  New 
York  home,  which  was  well  furnished  and  prepared  to 


92  TEKEL, 

receive  them,  where  they  would  begin  to  concoct  measures 
by  which  to  people  their  little  paradise  with  angels. 

The  minister  had  performed  his  duty,  the  guests  had  by 
no  means  neglected  theirs,  and  the  contracted  couple,  bear 
ing  away  with  them  the  eclat  of  the  occasion,  soon  found 
themselves  dashing  forward  to  New  York,  with  thoughts 
all  for  the  future,  when — a  terrible  crash  and  disaster 
spread  havoc  along  the  road. 

An  hour  later,  and  Linda. was  watching  over  a  mangled 
husband,  herself  unhurt,  while  they  were  again  dashing 
along  upon  an  extra  train  which  had  been  expressed  to 
meet  the  disaster.  The  husband  had  just  enough  life  in 
him  to  insist  upon  a  rigid  adherence  to  the  original  pro 
gramme.  Arriving  in  New  York,  the  sight  of  his  pre 
paratory  lovework,  as  he  was  being  borne  to  a  chamber, 
temporarily  reanimated  him.  But  the  surgeons  who  were 
called  in  warned  him  that,  if  he  desired  to  make  a  will,  he 
had  better  be  mending  his  pen.  In  the  flush  and  fullness 
of  his  love,  he  willed  his  possessions,  all  and  singular,  to 
his  bride,  and,  without  more  ado,  slept  with  his  fathers, 
instead  of  with  his  wife. 

In  addition  to  the  mansion-house  in  the  city,  and  its 
furnishings,  with  the  oleaginous  substrata  back  in  Penn 
sylvania,  Linda  came  into  possession  of  more  cash  in  bank 
than  she  knew  how  to  count  or  what  to  do  with,  for  she 
was  but  seventeen  years  of  age,  a  pure  rustic,  and  as  green 
as  grass. 

Recovering  from  the  horror  occasioned  by  the  rough  and 
gory  death  of  her  husband,  whom  she  esteemed,  but  prob 
ably  did  not  passionately  love,  she  determined,  now  that 
she  was  in  the  great  city,  and  able  to  stay,  that  she  would 
stay.  A  total  stranger  to  the  turmoil,  the  glitter,  and  the 
countless  array  which  met  her  eye  at  every  glance,  an 
ambition  took  possession  of  her  to  comprehend,  mingle 
with,  and  become  a  part  of  it.  She  saw  fine  ladies  whirl 
ing  here  and  there,  dressed  like  peacocks,  and  accosting 
each  other  with  theatrical  gestures,  and  voices  of  peculiar 
modulation,  and  smiles  of  angelic  sweetness.  She  saw 
gentlemen  with  the  air  of  kings  and  heroes,  spurning  the 
pave  with  vigorous  heel,  and  with  a  single  wave  of  the 
hand,  transferring,  as  it  were,  armies,  navies,  and  bottom- 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  93 

less  exchequers.  How  insignificant,  compared  to  all  this 
splendor,  and  sweeping  novelty,  and  electric  life,  were  the 
greasy  oil-tanks,  the  lowing  cows,  the  grunting  hogs,  and 
the  stale  interchange,  back  at  the  Medley  farm  in  Pennsyl 
vania  !  Linda's  utter  ignorance  of  city  life  and  the  but 
terfly-chase  of  that  human  vortex,  was  the  cause  of  her 
entertaining  most  exquisitely  absurd  ideas  of  the  relations 
existing  between  one  person  and  another  in  the  routine  and 
rodomontade  of  an  urban  existence  and  contact,  and  she 
bid  fair  to  become  an  unfailing  source  of  amusement  and 
side-splitting  laughter  to  her  appreciative  neighbors. 

At  the  end  of  twelve  mouths  she  threw  aside  her  widow's 
weeds,  of  which  she  had  become  mortally  weary,  and  came 
out  in  colors. 

Upon  a  certain  day  in  June  she  ventured  upon  her  first 
airing,  in  a  bright,  new  carriage,  when,  on  returning  home 
ward,  one  of  the  wheels,  which  probably  lacked  the  original 
linch-pin,'  rolled  off,  and  she  was  tossed  into  the  street. 
Her  hoops  and  dress  caught  upon  one  of  the  door-handles 
of  the  carriage,  and  she  was  not  able  immediately  to 
extricate  herself.  The  horses  began  to  prance,  and  the 
carriage,  so  suddenly  halted,  caused  other  vehicles,  both 
coming  and  going,  to  halt  likewise,  so  that  Linda  quickly 
became  the  center  of  quite  a  little  park  of  crowding 
wheels  and  restless  animals.  Her  situation  was  getting 
to  be  alarming,  for  she  was  in  danger  of  being  trampled 
to  death  ;  and  aside  from  the  peril,  her  skirts  were  ele 
vated  to  a  degree  which  exposed  a  stitch  or  two  too 
much  of  her  chaste  white  stocking. 

"  Jupiter !  what  a  pretty  ankle  1"  exclaimed  a  young 
man  sitting  close  by  in  a  carriage  whose  career  had  been 
interrupted  by  this  sudden  blockade.  At  the  same  mo 
ment,  and  from  the  same  carriage,  a  young  gentleman 
•sprang  out,  and  rescued  Linda  from  her  peril  and  per 
plexity. 

"  Please  take  me  home,"  said  Linda  beseechingly,  as 
soon  as  she  had  gained  the  sidewalk. 

"  Will  you  have  a  carriage  ?"  asked  the  young  gentle 
man. 

"  Oh,  no!  no!"  quickly  answered  Linda.  "  I  live  but  a 
few  squares  from  here,  and  we  can  soon  walk  it.  Please 
do." 


94  TEKEL, 

"  Certainly  I  will,"  said  the  young  gentleman,  who 
saw  that  his  charge  was  frightened  and  needed  encourage 
ment. 

"Rapid,  are  you  going  to  spend  the  day  there?" 
cried  a  voice  from  the  carriage  whence  came  the  rescuer. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Cassel,  for  it  was  he.  "  Go  on,  and  I 
will  meet  you  at  the  hotel."  Turning  to  Linda,  he  said, 
"  Now  I  am  ready  to  accompany  you.  Which  way  do 
we  go  ?" 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Linda  with  innocent  perplexity 
and  some  surprise.  "  I  thought  you  would  know  ;"  and 
she  looked  up  in  Cassel's  face." 

"  This  is  a  pretty  pickle  1"  said  Cassel,  with  a  pleasant 
and  amused  countenance.  "Can't  you  give  me  your 
street  and  number  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  sir,"  replied  Linda,  brightening,  and  calling 
off  the  street  and  number  of  her  residence.  "I  know  it 
is  not  far  from  here,  but  whether  it's  this  way  or  that 
way  I  can't  tell  for  the  sake  of  me." 

"  Come  along,"  said  Cassel,  with  that  brotherly  non 
chalance  which  made  his  ways  so  pleasant  to  the  girls, 
"  and  I  will  soon  find  it  for  you." 

As  they  walked  along  the  street,  Cassel  hardly  knew 
how  to  classify  Linda.  Was  she  a  resident  of  the  city  ? 
If  so,  she  was  a  very  fresh  one.  Might  she  not  be  a 
very  pretty  servant-girl  who,  in  the  absence  "of  her  mis 
tress,  had  daringly  borrowed  her  mistress's  attire,  and  per 
suaded  the  coachman,  with  a  promised  kiss,  to  take  her 
out  on  a  swell?  But  her  ingenuous  face  precluded  the 
supposition.  Cassel  looked  at  her  dress.  It  was  not 
correct,  but  it  was  expensive  and  rich.  Her  hands  and 
feet  were  small,  her  hair  soft  and  abundant,  her  cheek 
blooming  and  tender,  her  eyes  modest,  her  manner  neither 
of  the  country  nor  the  city,  but  absurd,  preposterous,  and 
unique.  But  in  spite  of  it  all,  she  was  unquestionably  a 
pretty  piece  of  flesh,  and  Cassel  did  not  think  it  tiresome 
to  take  her  home. 

Arrived  at  the  Boyd  mansion,  he  was  urged  both  by 
Linda  and  a  growing  curiosity  to  follow  her  into  the 
house,  the  superb  front  and  balcony  of  which  served  but 
to  enhance  his  bewilderment. 


OR   CORA   GLENCOE.  95 

Linda  had  recognized  in  Cassel  a  gallant,  handsome, 
city-going  person  of  the  masculine  gender ;  and  now  that 
she  was  at  her  own  house,  and  being  indebted  to  him 
withal,  she  felt  under  obligations  to  invite  him  in,  and 
ambitious  to  entertain  him  in  a  style  which  would,  while 
evincing  her  gratitude,  establish  at  once  her  reputation  as 
a  genuine,  gilt-edged,  metropolitan  lady,  capable  of  all 
the  fine  arts  of  society.  During  the  days  of  her  mourn 
ing  Linda  had  properly  secluded  herself,  postponing  all 
pomp,  display,  and  profusion  until  the  time  when  she 
should  lay  aside  her  widow's  weeds.  She  had  looked 
forward  to  that  hour  as  to  the  breaking  of  seals  ;  and  to  it 
she  had  referred  so  many  things  to  be  done  and  begun  (in 
the  imaginary  midst  of  which  things  she  failed  not  to 
recognize  her  own  figure  as  chiefest),  that  the  arrival  of 
the  bright  period  had  been  anticipated  as  a  puerto  which 
would  let  her  in  upon  numberless  essential  urban 
responsibilities,  duties,  and  pleasures,  which,  unfamiliar 
though  they  should  be,  she  had  so  conned,  and  imagined, 
and  rehearsed,  that  she  was  satisfied,  in  her  own  mind 
and  unsophisticated  little  heart,  they  would  become 
familiar  on  sight  and  self-adapting  on  contact.  But  now 
that  she  had  occasion  to  test  the  practicability  and  scope 
of  her  theories  so  often  pondered,  her  conceptions  of  the 
proper  and  opportune  were  not  as  clear  as  crystal  or  more 
ready  than  Glendower's  spirits.  She  was  satisfied  that  a 
great  deal  of  gesticulative  and  wordy  ceremony  was  de 
manded  ;  but  as  to  the  character  of  it,  whether  it  should  be 
grave  or  gay,  familiar  or  reserved,  she  was  in  a  mire  of 
doubt  and  ignorance ;  for,  in  all  her  rehearsals,  she  had 
never  anticipated  a  carriage  accident,  a  predicament  of 
peril,  an  elegant,  youthful,  and  noble-looking  rescuer,  with 
the  self-imposed  exigency  of  having  to  entertain  him  off- 
band.  Moreover,  here  was  a  double  demand  upon  her  un 
developed  resources.  She  must  not  only  give  style  to  her 
hospitality,  but  a  proper  degree  of  significance  to  her  grat 
itude.  Cassel  was  fortunate  enough  to  be  the  first  object 
of  her  superlative  attention  and  solicitude,  this  being  the 
initiatory  act,  after  her  emancipation,  of  the  brilliant  play 
of  "  Life  in  the  Great  City."  And  however  unprepared  she 
felt  herself  to  be,  she  was  determined  not  to  fail  for  lack  of 


96  TEKEL, 

an  effort.  There  was  but  one  point  connected  with  Linda, 
as  she  assiduously  maneuvered  about  the  splendid  parlors, 
and  about  him,  upon  which  Cassel's  mind  was  perfectly 
clear.  The  point  was  this  :  that  she  undoubtedly  con 
sidered  the  present  an  occasion  of  no  ordinary  consequence, 
and,  whatever  she  might  be  herself,  was  strenuously  essay 
ing  to  do  the  double-distinguished  bon-ton,  and,  by-the-way, 
making  a  most  ridiculous  farce  of  it.  Out  of  and  into  the 
parlors  she  hurried,  giving  him  no  time  to  introduce  him 
self,  apparently  apprehensive  that  she  would  lose  caste  if 
she  allowed  a  moment  to  slip  by  unaccompanied  by  civili 
ties,  wine,  cake,  and  the  like,  with  which  she  crowded  him, 
and  anon  observing  that  "  she  had  plenty  of  servants  to  do 
the  waiting,  but  they  were  asleep  or  away  where  she  could 
see  neither  hair  nor  hide  of  them,  and  even  if  the  servants 
were  at  hand,  it  would  be  more  grateful  in  her  to  wait  upon 
him  herself."  Cassel,  out  of  courtesy,  partook  of  the  cake 
and  wine,  mentally  observing,  "  she  is  no  servant-girl,  at 
all  events  ;  but  that  does  not  solve  the  mystery, — it  only 
aggravates  it.  1  shall  introduce  myself  as  soon  as  she 
lets  up,  and  capture  her  name."  But  Linda  withdrew, 
requesting  Cassel  to  be  amused  with  the  illustrated  peri 
odicals  which  covered  a  center-table,  until  she  should 
return.  He  was  utterly  confounded  by  Linda,  who  was 
so  entirely  out  of  keeping  with  her  surroundings,  for  he 
was  unable  to  connect  her  with  those  elegant  rooms  in 
which  he  saw  nothing  to  criticise  but  misplaced  books  and 
newspapers,  and  too  much  furniture  perhaps.  He  waited, 
in  anticipation  of  he  knew  not  what,  unless  it  should  be  the 
appearance  of  some  elder  member  of  the  family  on  a  thank 
ing  and  inspecting  expedition.  A  full  half  hour  passed. 
Becoming  restless,  he  mentally  weighed  whether  he  should 
expediently  take  unceremonious  leave,  or  neglect  his  unim 
portant  engagements  in  the  city,  and  follow  up  this,  his 
latest  discovery.  He  inclined  to  the  latter  alternative,  for, 
as  the  moon  will,  now  and  anon,  peep  through  the  rifts  of 
the  banked  cloud,  so  he,  by  glimpses  beyond  the  van  and 
parade  of  her  tomfoolery,  saw  that  Linda  was  pure,  per 
fectly  sincere,  and — the  most  outrageous  little  ignoramus 
within  all  the  wide  compass  of  his  knowledge  and  acquaint 
ance.  At  the  expiration  of  thirty-five  or  forty  minutes,  a 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  97 

door  opened,  and  Linda,  dressed  to  the  very  summit  of 
absurdity,  entered  and  approached  Cassel  with  an  air 
which,  with  all  the  screws  he  could  put  upon  himself, 
rather  got  the  better  of  his  risibles.  In  an  effort  to  hide 
his  face,  Cassel  arose  and  made  a  most  profound  and  long- 
continued  bow,  to  which  Linda  responded  with  an  equally 
protracted  courtesy,  while  Cassel's  sides  shook  with  sup 
pressed  laughter.  But  he  could  not  keep  his  head  down  all 
day,  notwithstanding  that  the  laugh  was  in  him  and  was 
not  going  to  stay  there  ;  so,  after  maintaining  his  bow  until 
it  was  getting  to  be  worse  than  the  alternative,  he  raised  his 
head  and  gave  out  a  carol,  as  free  and  clear  as  the  neigh  of  a 
young  wild  stallion.  Picking  up  a  newspaper  over  which  he 
had  been  glancing,  he  turned  to  a  comic  picture,  called  Lin 
da's  attention  to  it,  and  reading  the  corresponding  facetious 
paragraph,  succeeded  in  making  her  join  him  in  his  merri 
ment,  without  suspicion  as  to  its  source.  She  even  felt 
gratified  at  his  appreciation  of  her  center-table  literature, 
and  observed  that  she  had  laughed,  and  laughed,  and 
laughed  over  that  very  same  thing  that  very  morning. 
She  then  seated  herself  with  the  air  of  one  who  was  about 
to  entertain  a  regular  and  expected  visitor.  Cassel  took 
this  opportunity  of  introducing  himself  by  name. 

"  Law  me !"  exclaimed  Linda,  blushing,  "  I  forgot  all 
about  the  introductions.  My  name  is  Mrs.  Boyd.  It  used 
to  be  Linda  Medley." 

Cassel  had,  in  all  his  mental  roaming,  never  once  con 
jectured  that  this  young  girl  was  a  wife. 

"  Is  Mr.  Boyd  in  the  city  ?"  he  asked,  thinking  it  possi 
ble  that  some  city  man  of  money,  rusticating,  had  found  a 
wild  flower  to  his  liking,  and  transplanted  it. 

"  Gracious  goodness !"  said  Linda,  "  Mr.  Boyd  has 
been  dead  more  than  a  year." 

Cassel  remained  an  hour,  during  which  time  Linda  told 
him,  artlessly  in  fact,  superstylishly  in  manner,  all  her 
history.  When  Cassel  descended  from  the  front  vestibule 
of  the  Boyd  mansion,  he  said  to  himself, — 

"  She  is  the  sweetest  little  fool  that  e'er  the  sun  shone 
on — ha!  ha!  h-a!" 

A  week  passed,  in  which  Linda  returned  numerous  old 
calls,  and  went  a  bit  into  society.  But  hardly  a  day  went 

9 


98  TEKEL, 

down  without  finding  her  in  tears.  She  was  disappointed 
utterly.  City  people  wTere  so  heartless  and  supercilious. 
She  could  not  find  congeniality,  or  a  companion.  Nothing 
fell  out  as  she  had  anticipated.  In  a  company  of  half 
a  dozen  she  was  of  no  consequence  whatever.  The  lady 
at  her  side  would  be  invited  to  some  select  affair,  and  she 
be  overlooked,  slighted.  She  met  with  a  cold  welcome 
and  a  warm  good-by ;  with  suspicious,  sneering  glances ; 
caught  here  and  there  a  whisper,  or  a  suppressed  titter ; 
had  often  to  repeat  her  name  to  some  self-sufficient  dame 
three  or  four  times  within  the  space  of  half  an  hour.  She 
had  been  desolate  and  lonely  enough  in  the  days  of  her 
weedhood,  but  had  been  buoyed  and  cheered  by  anticipa 
tion  of  a  happy  and  transforming  era ;  but  now  that  the 
era  had  come,  it  was  a  winter  succeeding  spring,  nipping 
the  fruit-buds  of  her  coming  pleasures,  enjoyments,  and 
worthy  deeds  of  social  renown  and  conspicuity.  Her 
bright  dreams  faded  even  as  the  glory  of  an  evening  cloud, 
and  the  great  city  which  she  had  contemplated  with  awe 
and  wonder,  and  as  containing  an  exhaustless  store  of 
happy,  seemly,  gorgeous,  good,  and  unimaginable  things, 
became  at  once  a  thing  to  fear,  a  mingling  merely  of 
mercenary  millions,  whose  hearts,  to  her,  were  not  respon 
sive,  whose  stare  was  shameless,  whose  words  were  indif 
ferent  and  unfeeling,  and  whose  houses  looked  cold, 
mysterious,  and  unapproachable.  Linda  did  not  feel  her 
self  to  blame,  for  she  was  not  sensible  of  her  exquisite 
faults;  but  she  felt  keenly  that  she  was  not  appreciated, 
not  expected,  not  welcomed,  not  wanted  as  a  member  of 
coteries,  clans,  and  impromptu  knots  of  confidential,  golden 
gossip.  And  all  in  all,  the  last  week  of  her  life  in  the 
city  was  infinitely  more  painful  and  disheartening  than 
her  first  week  of  mourning.  She  had  bethought  herself, 
aforetime,  of  returning  to  Pennsylvania,  and  she  would 
have  done  so,  had  she  not,  in  her  ignorance,  imagined 
great  difficulties  attendant  upon  an  absolute  removal,  and 
had  she  not,  in  equal  ignorance,  looked  forward  to  happier 
and  less  lonely  days.  Disappointed  and  desolate,  she  was 
now  in  a  mood  to  give  up  the  city  and  all  its  ungenial 
brilliants,  and  go  where  she  knew  that  the  sympathy  for 
which  she  craved  awaited  her.  But  she  was  not  destitute 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  99 

of  courage,  ambition,  or  perseverance,  and  she  could  not, 
without  a  sense  of  cowardice,  abandon  so  abruptly  her 
scheme  of  life.  She  had  read  of  heroines  who  never  did 
give  up,  but  fought  their  way  through  dangers,  con 
tumely,  and  powerful  adversaries  to  the  very  pinnacle  of 
their  ambition  and  desires,  and  dictated  to  those  who 
were  wont  to  trample  on  them.  Linda  had  proud  blood 
in  her  veins, — but  then  she  was  so  green,  and  tender 
hearted. 


CHAPTER  X. 

IT  was  quite  natural  that  Cassel  should  desire  to  see 
Linda  again,  and  equally  as  reasonable  that  he  should  at 
once  perceive  and  appreciate  her  great  need  of  a  guardian 
and  honest  mentor,  and  yet  more  natural  that  he  should 
imagine  himself  as  competent  and  fit  to  stand  in  relation 
to  her  as  quasi  guardian  and  actual  counselor. 

He  therefore  went  to  see  Linda,  about  ten  days  after 
his  first  adventure  with  her.  She  was  unmistakably  glad 
to  see  him,  for  he  was  the  one  of  all  others  whom  she  had 
met  in  whose  countenance  was  genuine  sunlight,  and  from 
whose  heart  came  inspiring  warmth. 

Cassel  led  her  to  talk  of  herself,  and  gradually  stole 
away  from  her  the  pomp  and  phantasmagoria  of  her  crea 
tive  imagination,  and  reproduced  her  as  what  she  was,  a 
pretty  country  lass,  to  be  pitied,  and  probably  to  be  loved. 

As  the  negative  takes  to  the  positive,  Linda  was 
attracted  to  young  Rapid,  and  in  all  her  innocence  and 
ingenuousness,  unbosomed  herself  to  him.  In  his  presence 
she  grew  cheerful,  and  unconsciously  a  little  jaunty,  like  a 
sweet  young  girl  who  knows  her  company.  She  gained 
his  sympathy  by  word,  and  eye,  and  blush,  and  by  the 
unselfishness  of  her  spoken  thoughts.  She  unreservedly 
discussed  her  own  affairs,  sensible  that  he  could  advise 
her  if  he  would,  and  doubting  not  his  willingness  to  do  so. 
Among  many  things,  she  stated  that  she  was  so  very  lone 
some  ;  that  the  city  people  were  so  stiff  and  cranky ;  that 


100  TEKEL, 

she  had  no  pleasure,  and  did  not  know  how  to  pass  her 
time.  Then  the  servants  were  such  a  bother,  and  the 
shopkeepers  cheated  and  imposed  on  her ;  that  a  wine 
merchant  had  sold  her  wine  not  a  month  old,  making  her 
believe  that  the  newer  the  better.  That  she  did  not  drink 
wine  herself,  but  kept  it  for  company.  That  sometimes 
when  she  had  company  she  drank  it  as  a  hospitable  duty, 
but  it  always  put  her  in  such  a  good  humor  that  she  would 
nearly  kill  herself  laughing ;  and  then  she  would  have  the 
headache  afterward. 

Cassel  could  imagine  with  what  gusto  a  covey  of  au 
fait  city  women  might  get  around  this  innocent  little 
maid-widow,  force  her  to  drink  wine  through  scruples  of 
hospitality,  and  then  tickle  her  into  immoderate  screams 
of  countrified  laughter. 

"  I  hardly  know  what  to  do  with  myself,"  said  Linda, 
with  &  deep-drawn  sigh,  and  a  pensive  brow. 

"Don't  you  find  society  pleasant?"  asked  Cassel. 

"  They  laugh  at  me,"  said  Linda,  with  quivering  lip. 

Although  Cassel  had  laughed  at  her  himself,  he  felt  his 
heart  rouse  within  him.  Said  he,  tenderly, — 

"  Let  me  be  your  brother,  and  let  me  teach  you,  and 
they  shall  never  laugh  at  you  again." 

Linda  was  taken  by  surprise.  She  looked  at  him  wist 
fully,  and  asked, — 

"  Will  it  be  right  ?" 

"We  will  make  it  right,"  said  Cassel.  "I  have  no 
kindred,  and,  like  you,  I  feel  the  need  of  sympathy  and 
affection." 

Linda  looked  at  Cassel  and  thought  that  one  so  bright 
'  and  beautiful  could  have  no  need,  no  want,  unprovided 
for.  What  a  luxury  it  would  be  to  have  him  for  a  brother, 
and  give  him  all  her  wakeful  sympathy  and  affection  ! 
How  infinitely  fair  and  assuring  to  be  within  the  care  of 
him,  with  his  dauntless  pure  eyes  upon  her,  his  manly 
arm  to  shield  her,  and  his  refined  experience  to  guide  her  ! 
Linda  felt  that  a  treasure  had  been  laid  at  her  feet,  which 
she  should  gather  to  her  bosom  and  never,  never  spurn 
away. 

"  Oh,  if  I  could  be  your  sister,  and  you  would  not  be 
ashamed  of  me!"  she  said  with  sincere  pathos. 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  101 

"Ashamed  of  you  I  shall  never  be.  You  have  told  me 
3rour  history,  and  I  recognize  all  your  disadvantages  and 
difficulties.  They  can  be  made  to  melt  away  as  the  snow 
before  the  sun.  A  pure  heart  and  a  sister's  affection  is 
what  I  want ;  I  can  form  the  rest.  It  is  not  a  legion  of 
acquaintances  that  will  make  you  contented  and  joyful, 
but  a  few  chosen,  sympathizing,  and  right-hearted  friends." 

Cassel  talked  Linda  into  a  gay  and  happy  mood.  A 
new  vista  was  opened  to  her,  down  which  she  saw  many 
comely  and  ambrosial  things.  Finally  Gassel  asked, — 

"  Are  you  living  entirely  alone  ?" 

"No,  sir;  Uncle  Jesse  lives  with  me." 

"Now  tell  me  all  about  Uncle  Jesse." 

"  Well,  father  sent  him  up  here  to  live  with  me,  and  keep 
me  company ;  but  he  is  no  company  at  all.  He  does  no 
thing  but  sit  in  his  room,  and  copy  maps  and  pictures,  and 
write  notes  on  slips  of  paper.  He  takes  thin  paper  and 
puts  it  over  the  maps,  and  then  marks  off  the  lines  with 
a  pencil." 

"  Quite  an  interesting  occupation,"  said  Cassel,  with  a 
smile. 

"  Then  he's  so  cross,"  said  Linda,  pouting.  "  He  some 
times  actually  calls  me  a  fool.  If  he  was  not  my  uncle, 
and  poor,  I  would  almost  send  him  away." 

"  It  is  better  that  he  should  be  here,"  said  Cassel.  "  He 
is  your  only  protection." 

"  No  protection  at  all,"  said  Linda,  laughing,  not  at  what 
she  had  said,  but  at  what  she  was  about  to  say.  "  Let  me 
tell  you  about  him.  A  burglar  might  rummage  the  whole 
house  and  he  would  never  know  it,  He  won't  even  let  me 
dust  his  room.  He  locks  me  and  every  one  else  out  of  his 
'study'  as  he  calls  it.  I  went  in  there  once  when  he  was 
at  breakfast,  and  began  to  dust  the  room.  He  came  up  and 
caught  me  at  it.  Looking  about  for  something  which  he 
instantly  seemed  to  miss,  and  not  being  able  to  find  it,  he 
frowned  at  me,  and  gritted  his  teeth  at  me.  Seeing  some 
scraps  of  paper  in  my  apron,  he  clawed  them  out,  and  shak 
ing  one  of  the  slips  at  me,  said,  while  he  gritted  his  teeth, — 

" '  How  dare  you  take  this  out  of  my  study  ?' 

"  '  What  account  is  that  ?'   I  asked. 
9* 


102  TEKEL, 

'"Damn  it,"  said  he,  almost  choking,  'it  has  an  idea 
on  it;  a  thing  which  seems  never  to  have  entered  your 
head.'" 

Linda  laughed  gayly,  and  Cassel  amusedly  asked, — 

"  What  did  you,  then  ?" 

"  I  told  him  it  must  have  been  the  only  one  he  had  or 
he  wouldn't  be  so  outdone  about  losing  it,  and  then  I  came 
away.  I  didn't  want  to  treat  Uncle  Jesse  disrespectfully, 
but  sometimes  he  is  so  provoking,  and  makes  nothing  of 
calling  me  an  idiot,  and  crazy,  and  such  like.  He  says  that 
when  I  visit  my  parents  again  he  is  going  to  make  father 
keep  me  there  in  Pennsylvania ;  that  I  have  no  business 
in  a  city,  trying  to  be  what  I  wasn't  made  for  ;  that  I  ought 
to  be  milking  cows  instead  of  wearing  silk  dresses  and 
aping  she-monkeys  of  fashion ;  and  that  when  he  gets  the 
benefit  of  about  as  much  of  my  nonsense  as  he  can  stand, 
he's  going  to  burn  the  house  down  and  clear  out  and  take 
me  along  with  him." 

Notwithstanding  this  terrible  array  against  Uncle  Jesse, 
Cassel  had  an  idea  that  he  would  like  the  old  gentleman. 

"  Is  he  a  student  ?"  asked  Cassel.  "  Is  he  engaged  in 
any  scientific  or  literary  pursuit?" 

"  I  don't  know  what  he's  up  to,"  said  Linda.  "  I  know 
that  I  have  paid  out  three  or  four  hundred  dollars  for  his 
tories  and  maps  and  old  atlases,  just  to  gratify  him.  He 
says  he  only  looks  in  the  history  books  for  dates,  and  not 
for  facts  ;  that  he  doesn't  need  anybody's  words,  but  the 
figures,  which  won't  lie  ;  and  that  he  can  fill  up  the  bal 
ance  with  what  he  calls  his  regular  old  wild-hog  sense." 

Cassel  was  rather  amused  at  Linda's  portrait  of  Uncle 
Jesse.  The  old  gentleman  had  doubtless  become  disgusted 
with  his  niece  on  account  of  her  hard-headed  efforts  to  act 
the  fine  lady,  regarding  her  as  a  fashion-ape,  and  a  poor  one 
at  that,  and  probably  contented  himself  with  keeping  her 
from  actual  harm,  if  so  much.  But  although  Linda  went 
to  work,  as  you  might  say,  wrong  end  foremost,  her  ambi 
tion  was  by  no  means  the  ambition  of  a  fool.  She  was 
wealthy,  and  young,  and  she  had  a  laudable  desire  to  take 
rank  in  society  as  a  useful,  happy,  graceful,  recognized  mem 
ber  of  it,  to  enjoy  and  dispense  its  benefits  and  pleasures, 
and  be  an  acknowledged  equal  wherever  she  should  choose 


OR   CORA    GLEN  CO  E.  103 

to  go ;  in  all  of  which  she  had,  at  the  very  outset,  been 
bitterly  disappointed  and  coldly  rebuffed,  and  had  fallen 
back  upon  sighs  and  tears,  a  woman's  last  alternative. 
Young  Rapid's  present  visit  could  not  have  been  more 
happily  timed  for  Linda  ;  and  she,  had  she  searched  the 
world  over,  could  not  have  found  a  truer  or  more  dauntless 
breast  upon  which  to  cast  her  cares,  or  a  gentler  and  more 
competent  guide  from  whom  to  seek  direction.  It  was  for 
tunate  for  Linda  that  Cassel  crossed  her  path  so  soon  after 
her  widow's  weeds  had  perished  with  their  season,  for 
many  a  one  would  soon  have  been  on  the  alert  to  lead  her 
along  the  primrose  path  to  bell.  But  he  would  never  do 
it.  It  was  not  in  his  nature  ;  and  had  it  been  in  his  nature, 
his  experience  would  have  stormed  against  it,  for  he  him 
self  knew  of  something  worse  than  death,  and  fit  alone  to 
stand  in  the  very  gates  of  hell.  To  develop  Linda  into  a 
well-versed,  charming,  and  fashionable  young  lady,  and  yet 
leave  her  spotless  and  green-hearted,  there  was  no  one  who 
might  have  better  taken  the  venture  than  Cassel  Rapid. 
With  leisure,  and  without  attachments  to  preoccupy  him, 
being  the  last  of  his  race,  and  homeless,  and  recognizing 
Linda's  peculiar,  desolate,  and  dangerous  condition,  he 
could  well  make  up  his  mind  to  fashion  her  according  to 
the  demands  of  her  natural  beauty,  and  purity,  and  of  her 
fortuitous  wealth.  He  could  see  no  reason,  and  there  was 
none,  why  he  should  not  rescuethis  little  innocent,  and  gird 
her  with  knowledge  and  experience.  At  all  events,  he  de 
termined  to  undertake  it,  and  make  a  mission  of  it.  Aside 
from  any  other  consideration,  it  would  be  a  delight  and  a 
pastime. 

"  Will  you  permit  me  to  visit  you  freely?"  asked  Cassel. 

"  I  would  be  so  glad  to  have  you  come,"  eagerly  replied 
Lin.da.  "  You  are  so  kind  and  homelike." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  homelike?"  asked  Cassel. 

"I  mean,"  said  she  guilelessly,  "that  you  have  no 
style." 

Cassel  smiled.  Linda  unconsciously  had  paid  him  the 
highest  compliment  he  had  ever  received.  It  was  the 
very  perfection  of  his  manner  which  put  her  at  ease  and 
caused  her  ignorantly  to  suppose  that  he  had  no  style  at 
all.  Her  conception  of  style  was  a  mate  to  that  of  those 


104  TEKEL, 

stage  actors  who  tear  a  passion  all  to  tatters,  and  by 
Hamlet  condemned. 

"Have  you  any  intimate  friends  in  the  city?"  asked 
Cassel. 

"  None  that  I  like,"  said  Linda. 

"Who  manages  your  affairs  for  you  ?" 

"I  manage  the  house  myself;  Lewis  &  Capelle  are  my 
business  agents.  They  managed  for  Mr.  Boyd  before  I 
was  married." 

"  What  are  they — bankers  ?" 

"  I  don't  know.     I  check  on  them  for  money." 

" Have  you  their  street  and  number?" 

"  I  can  get  their  card,"  said  Linda,  rising.  "  You  can 
then  see  what  they  are  and  where  they  keep." 

Linda  brought  a  card,  upon  which  Cassel  read  "  Lewis 
&  Capelle,  Bankers  and  Real  Estate  Brokers,"  following 
which  was  street,  number,  etc. 

"Now  I  must  go,"  said  Cassel. 

"  When  will  you  come  again  ?" 

"  Will  you  be  glad  to  see  me  ?" 

"Indeed  I  will,"  said  Linda. 

"  I  will  come  to-morrow,"  said  Cassel. 

"  And  what  am  I  to  do  until  then  ?"  asked  Linda,  with 
an  expression  half  pensive,  half  mischievous. 

"  Behave  yourself,  and  let  Uncle  Jesse's  papers  alone," 
answered  Cassel  with  a  pleasant  laugh. 

When  Cassel  had  gone,  Linda  became  restless.  With 
out  knowing  anything  about  him,  she  had  surrendered 
herself  to  his  keeping.  It  never  entered  her  head  to 
doubt  him,  or  imagine  that  it  was  possible  he  might 
deceive  and  take  advantage  of  her.  Not  that  she  was 
totally  deficient  of  caution  or  sense  of  virgin  propriety, 
but  his  face  was  the  sign-manual  of  Honor,  and  in  his  voice 
was  the  harmony  of  Truth. 

On  the  next  day  Cassel  returned  to  the  Boyd  mansion. 
Linda  was  ready  and  double  ready  to  receive  him.  With 
him  she  forgot  her  mistaken  airs  and  civilities,  or  aban 
doned  them  from  a  glimmering  sense  that  they  were 
entirely  superfluous.  She  ceased  to  importune  him  with 
untimely  hospitalities  in  the  way  of  refreshments,  discern 
ing  that  he  did  not  care  for  them.  She  learned  to  listen, 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  105 

and  that  it  was  not  necessary  for  ber  to  busy  herself  or 
keep  up  a  ceaseless  tongue-clatter  to  make  the  time  pass 
pleasantly  or  properly.  She  consequently  appeared  to 
much  better  advantage,  with  the  single  exception  of  her 
excessive  attire. 

"  I  have  brought  you  something,"  said  Cassel,  handing 
Linda  a  letter. 

"  A  letter !"  cried  Linda,  springing  for  it ;  and  without 
saying  "  by  your  leave,"  or  excusing  herself  in  any  way, 
she  broke  it  open  and  read  it, — as  Cassel  intended  she 
should  do. 

"Why,  I  knew  all  this  before,"  said  Linda,  looking  up 
with  a  countenance  upon  which  was  questioning  surprise. 
"  What  is  it  for  ?" 

"  How  did  you  know  it?"  asked  Cassel. 

"  How  did  I  know  it  ?  Why,  I  just  knew  it,"  said 
Linda,  laughing. 

"  No,"  said  Cassel,  "  you  knew  nothing  about  it.  I 
brought  it  to  you  as  a  testimonial  upon  which,  in  the 
beginning  of  our  acquaintance,  you  could  rely.  As  we 
learn  each  other  better,  you  can  then  form  your  own 
opinion  of  me." 

The  letter  was  a  commendation  from  Sarazzin  &  Saraz- 
zin,  and  indorsed  by  Lewis  &  Capelle,  Linda's  bankers. 

"And  now,"  continued  Cassel,  "from  this  day  forward 
I  am  to  be  your  brother,  and  you  are  to  be  my  little 
sister." 

Linda  blushed  with  modest  pleasure.     She  said, — 

"  It  seems  so  strange  that  you  should  be  so  kind  to  me, 
and  want  me  for  your  sister." 

"  Why  ?"  asked  Cassel. 

"Because  I  am  not  like  you,  who  know  everybody,  and 
can  go  here  and  there  when  you  please,  and  be  happy, 
without  a  thought  of  me ;  and  then  nobody  ever  takes  any 
interest  in  me,  and  I  am  so  different  from  everyone  here." 

"  For  those  very  reasons  you  need  a  brother ;  and  for 
those  reasons  I  offer  you  a  brother's  affection  and  guid 
ance.  You  are  a  wild  flower  blooming  alone,  but  none 
the  less  sweet  and  dear  to  the  wayfarer,  who  would  shield 
you  from  the  nipping  frost,  the  foul  breath  of  the  sirocco, 
and  the  ruthless  tread  of  the  rushing  herd.  It  is  not  all 


106  TEKEL, 

unselfishness  in  me.  The  florist  cultivates  the  rose,  not 
from  the  love  of  labor  or  that  the  bush  may  merely  thrive, 
but  for  the  pure  blush  and  fragrance  which  it  gives  him." 

"I  love  to  hear  you  talk,"  said  Linda.  "You  do  not 
talk  like  other  people,  and  are  no  more  like  them  than  I 
am.  If  I  am  run  wild,  as  you  say,  please  to  tame  me,  and 
teach  me  what  it  is  that  I  must  do." 

"We  will  teach  one  another,"  said  Cassel,  "and  begin 
by  making  a  compact  not  to  be  angry  or  feel  hurt  with 
each  other." 

"I  could  not  be  angry  with  you,"  was  the  confiding 
reply. 

"I  will  straightway  test  your  temper,"  said  Cassel. 

"  I  wonder  how,"  replied  Linda. 

"By  introducing  a  very  delicate  subject.  How  many 
dresses  have  you  ?" 

Linda  had  never  been  asked  such  a  question  by  a 
gentleman,  and  she  was  in  doubt  whether  it  was  a  proper 
question  to  be  asked  or  Answered.  With  a  little  hesita 
tion,  however,  she  said, — 

"  I  have  but  six  new  ones.  My  black  dresses  are  all 
laid  away.  I  am  to  have  six  more  new  ones  this  week." 

"  Where  did  you  get  those  which  you  have  ?" 

"From  Madame  De  Lude." 

"She  is  properly  named,"  said  Cassel,  "and  has  deluded 
you  thereby.  Are  your  other  dresses  to  come  from  the 
same  place  ?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  You  must  countermand  the  order." 

"Why?" 

"You  are  being  imposed  upon — cheated.  You  have 
wrorn  a  different  dress  each  time  that  I  have  seen  you,  and 
none  of  them  are  in  vogue,  and  never  have  been." 

"  How  is  that  ?"  asked  Linda. 

"Your  dresses  are  not  the  fashion,"  said  Cassel  plainly. 

"They  must  be,"  insisted  Linda.  "They  are  just 
finished,  and  Madame  De  Lude  bragged  on  them  as  being 
almost  ahead  of  the  style." 

"Ahead  of  the  style  they  certainly  are,"  said  Cassel, 
with  rather  a  droll  smile,  "  and  so  far  ahead  that  I'm 
afraid  the  fashion  will  never  catch  up  with  them.  But 


OR   CORA    GLEN  CO  E.  107 

seriously,  they  are  mainly  last  season's  style,  altered. 
Probably  second-band  dresses  thrown  off  by  fashionable 
ladies,  bought  up  by  the  mantua-maker,  changed  a  little, 
and  for  the  worse,  and  put  upon  you  as  the  mode,  which 
they  are  not,  either  in  pattern  or  make." 

Linda  was  overthrown.  No  one  except  herself  knew 
how  long,  and  with  what  mental  preparation  she  had  been 
anticipating  the  exchange  of  her  sad  weeds  for  the  unfet 
tered  magnificence  of  the  current  brilliant  mode,  or  how 
she  had  calculated  upon  securing  the  very  latest,  most 
exquisite,  graceful,  and  exact  style  of  outfit,  or  how  com 
placently  she  was  contemplating  having  done  so.  And 
now,  when  she  was  conscious  of  having  failed  in  all  her 
other  endeavors,  and  was  only  consoling  herself  with  the 
comforting  belief  that  at  all  events  her  dresses  were  of 
model  tuck  and  stitch,  to  be  told  and  convinced,  by  a 
gentleman,  that  she  was  wearing  merely  the  cast-off  trum 
pery  of  some  gay  belle  of  a  gone  season, — ah  !  it  was  indeed 
too  much.  It  plunged  her  into  the  very  Yalley  of  Humilia 
tion.  Linda  was  miserable  under  Cassel's  rather  free 
criticisms ;  unpardonable  they  would  have  been,  but  that 
he  wixhed  her  to  feel  miserable  for  the  moment,  and 
remember  and  profit  by  it.  She  hung  her  head,  rich  with 
golden  hair,  and  buried  her  face  in  the  cushions  of  the  sofa 
on  which  she  sat.  She  was  very  pretty  and  desolate 
where  she  drooped,  and  Cassel  might  have  taken  her  in 
his  arms  and  consoled  her.  Instead  of  which,  he  urged, — 

"  Now  please  do  not  be  angry  with  me." 

She  raised  her  head.  Her  face  was  deeply  blushing. 
With  an  energetic,  self-disdaining  air,  she  said, — 

"  I  am  not  angry  at  all.  I  am  ashamed.  Uncle  Jesse 
is  right  when  he  calls  me  a  fool." 

"  Nay,  do  not  be  cast  down,"  said  Cassel,  soothingly 
and  cheerfully.  "  Your  error  is  not  beyond  repair." 

"  I  know  you  are  ashamed  of  me,"  said  Linda,  the  tears 
starting  to  her  eyes. 

"  I  am  ashamed  of  nothing  which  is  so  innocent  and 
fair  as  my  little  sister,"  said  Cassel.  "It  is  a  matter  of 
no  particular  importance,  only  you  must  not  allow  this 
cheat  to  continue.  Your  order  for  the  other  dresses  must 
be  countermanded,  with  the  reason  why." 


108  TEKEL, 

"  But  I  am  afraid  of  the  dressmaker,  and  would  rather 
pay  for  them  thai)  meet  her,"  said  Linda. 

"  Order  your  carriage.  I  will  go  with  you.  You  need 
not  speak  a  word.  I  will  manage  it  myself." 

The  carriage  was  ordered.  Cassel  and  Linda  got  into 
it  and  were  driven  away.  Arrived  at  Madame  De  Lude's, 
they  entered  the  superfashionable  establishment.  Linda 
was  most  charmingly  accosted  by  the  female  head,  who, 
with  a  gracious  nod  to  Cassel,  said, — 

"  Ah,  Mrs.  Boyd ;  your  last  dress  is  just  finished.  I 
was  upon  the  point  of  sending  them  around  to  you." 

"  Let  me  see  them,  if  you  please,"  said  Cassel  politely. 

"  We  never  admit  gentlemen  to  our  dressing-room,"  said 
the  female  head  with  killing  prudery  and  concealed  mis 
givings. 

"  Be  kind  enough,  then,  to  bring  them  here,"  said  Cassel. 

After  some  shuffling  back  and  forth,  the  dresses  were 
produced.  Cassel  took  one  of  them,  and  examined  it  with 
the  dexterity  and  eye  of  a  fashionable  woman.  He  took 
his  penknife  and  ripped  a  binding. 

"  See  here,"  said  he  to  Linda,  pointing  to  the  stain  of 
perspiration  at  the  armpits ;  "  this  dress  has  been  worn." 

"You  are  mistaken,  sir,"  haughtily  asserted  the  female 
head. 

"Whether  I  am  or  not,"  said  Cassel,  "it  is  of  last 
season." 

He  picked  up  one  dress  after  another,  and  found  them 
all  cheats  but  one,  which  also  would  have  been  had  not 
Linda  taken  a  stubborn  fancy  to  a  certain  pattern,  and  re 
fused  to  be  comforted  unless  she  got  it ;  refusing  to  be 
dictated  to  and  declining  advice,  as  she  had  not  done  in 
respect  to  the  other  dresses. 

"  Madame,"  said  Cassel,  holding  up  a  garment,  "  here  is 
a  walking-dress,  the  features  of  which  are  twelve  months 
old.  By  mistake  you  have  inserted  a  width  darker  by  a 
shade  than  the  original  fabric.  That  would  not  be  much 
of  an  objection  were  it  not  intended  for  open  day  wear. 
It  would  probably  pass  a  street  lamp  without  criticism.  But 
it  is  useless  to  discuss  the  dresses.  You  are  even  better 
aware  than  I  am  of  the  objections  to  them.  We  cannot 
accept  them." 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  109 

Cassel  then  withdrew  Linda  from  the  establishment 
under  a  furious  fire  from  the  female  head.  In  the  carriage 
Linda  said, — 

"I  would  not  have  gone  through  with  that  by  myself 
for  anything  in  the  world.  I  couldn't  have  done  it.  How 
she  did  get  mad  !" 

"  Let  her  remain  so,"  said  Cassel.  "  If  you  do  not 
claim  your  own,  here,  you  will  soon  have  nothing  to 
claim." 

Cassel  took  Linda  to  a  more  honest  establishment,  and 
engaged  for  her  a  complete  outfit.  As  Linda's  order  was 
unusually  comprehensive,  the  Madame  accompanied  her 
and  Cassel  from  door  to  door,  and,  between  the  three 
pairs  of  eyes,  succeeded  in  making  very  elegant  and  tasty 
selections ;  Linda  deferring  almost  wholly  to  Cassel  and 
the  Madame,  the  latter  of  whom  observed, — 

"  You  have  very  good  taste,  sir,  for  a  gentleman." 

"  You  compliment  me  at  the  expense  of  my  sex,"  said 
Cassel. 

"  Not  at  all,  sir ;  for  most  of  gentlemen  pride  themselves 
in  not  knowing  a  ribbon  from  a  rolling-pin,"  gayly  replied 
the  Madame. 

When  Linda  retired  to  be  measured,  the  Madame,  who 
went  with  her,  coming  out  of  the  sanctuary  in  advance  of 
her,  asked  of  Cassel, — 
'  Is  she  your  sister  ?" 
'  Yes,"  replied  he. 

'She  has  a  splendid  form,"  said  the  Frenchwoman. 
'  See  that  you  fit  it,"  enjoined  Cassel. 
'  I'll  make  her  look  another  sort,"  was  the  reply. 

Linda  came  out,  and  Cassel  took  her  home.  She  had 
been  in  paradise  while  selecting,  under  intelligent  guid 
ance,  the  rich  and  innumerable  things  which  went  to  make 
up  her  outfit ;  and  now  that  it  was  over,  she  would  be  in 
a  tremor  of  expectancy  until  her  wardrobe  should  make 
its  appearance  and  be  tested. 

Cassel  called  to  see  Linda  every  day.  She  responded 
so  unaffectedly  to  his  kindness  that  his  interest  in  her 
was  daily  on  the  increase.  It  gave  him  joy  to  give  joy  to 
her,  and  he  was  beginning  to  control  her,  and  she  to  obey, 
as  though  they  were  blood  and  bone  of  each  other.  He 

10 


110  TEKEL, 

came  in  one  morning  at  his  usual  hour,  and  Linda  met 
him  in  an  evening-dress,  with  bare  arms  and  shoulders, 
which  were  of  a  mould  fitly  to  be  put  on  exhibition. 

"Are  you  not  afraid  of  taking  cold?"  he  asked. 

"  No,  sir ;  it  is  so  pleasant  to-day." 

"  But  that  dress  will  certainly  give  you  cold  if  you  wear 
it  in  the  morning,"  said  Cassel. 

Linda  understood  him.  She  arose  with  some  confusion 
and  was  about  to  withdraw  and  change  her  dress,  when 
Cassel  said, — 

"  No.  Do  not  go  to  that  trouble  now.  It  is  not  ne 
cessary.  I  came  this  morning  on  a  special  errand.  I 
have  not  seen  a  servant,  except  the  bell-maid,  and  her  but 
now  and  then,  since  my  first  morning  with  you.  Where 
are  they  ?" 

"In  the  basement,  I  suppose." 

"  How  many  do  you  keep  ?" 

"Let  me  see;  there's  the  cook,  the  washwoman,  two 
chambermaids,  coachman,  marketinan,  and  errand-boy." 

"  What  do  they  do  ?" 

"  I  do  not  know,"  said  Linda. 

"  Two  women  and  a  man  are  all  that  you  can  possibly 
need.  Why  don't  you  discharge  them  ?" 

"  I'm  afraid  of  them,"  said  Linda ;  "  and  then  I  was  told 
that  all  nice  families  keep  as  many." 

"  The  nicest  families  in  the  city  keep  no  more  servants 
than  they  have  use  for.  They  are  like  bad  debts — the 
fewer  you  have  the  better.  Show  me  the  way  to  your 
basement.  I'll  go  down  there  and  see  what  I  can  do  for 
you." 

"  You  had  better  not  go  alone,  because  the  marketman 
is  as  impudent  as  he  can  be." 

"He  is  the  first  one  whom  I  mean  to  discharge,"  said 
Cassel,  "  for  you  have  no  more  use  for  him  than  I  have 
for  a  chignon." 

Linda  laughed,  but  with  some  apprehension  led  Cassel 
to  the  head  of  the  stairs  which  descended  into  the  basement. 
He  went  down,  and  remained  about  ten  minutes.  When 
he  returned,  Linda  anxiously  asked  him  what  he  had 
done. 

"  I  discharged  all  but  the  coachman,  the  cook,  and  an- 


OR   CORA    OLENCOE.  HI 

other  woman,  who  will  do  the  washing,  chamber-work, 
and  answer  the  bell.  Those  three  I  put  on  call  from  six 
o'clock  in  the  morning  until  nine  o'clock  at  night.  Your 
coachman  is  to  act  as  messenger,  and  make  himself  generally 
useful.  The  marketman  wouldn't  be  convinced  until  I 
knocked  him  down." 

"  Did  you  knock  him  down  ?" 

"I  did.  He  was  insolent  without  provocation,  for  I 
treated  them  all  with  consideration.  What  do  you  sup 
pose  they  were  doing  when  I  went  down  ?  Eating  break 
fast,  and  it's  now  eleven  o'clock  1  And  a  very  fine  table 
they  spread  of  it,  indulging  even  in  breakfast  wine,  at 
your  expense,  of  course,"  and  Cassel  laughed  at  Linda, 
who  blushed  and  laughed  also,  for  she  was  glad  that  her 
affairs  were  being  corrected.  "  I  paid  those  whom  I  dis 
charged,  whether  rightly  or  wrongly  I  do  not  know,  and 
I'm  sure  you  don't ;  so  let  it  go.  I  will  collect  from  you 
whenever  convenient.  Are  your  new  dresses  delivered 
yet  ?" 

"  No,  sir,  but  I  get  some  of  them  to-morrow." 

"  On  to-morrow  then  I  shall  have  a  proposition  to  make." 

"  Make  it  now,"  said  Linda ;  "  it  will  tease  me  so  to 
wait." 

"  Very  well.  We  will  take  a  carriage  drive  to  one  of  the 
parks.  It  is  to  be  a  gala-day,  and  you  will  have  an  oppor 
tunity  of  seeing  a  little  st}Tle." 

"  I  know  I  shall  enjoy  it,"  said  Linda  affectionately.  "  I 
have  had  no  one  to  take  me  anywhere." 

"  I  know  it.  You  would  be  lost  at  the  turning  of  the 
next  corner.  But  good-by ;  I  am  rather  busy  to-day. 
Run  away  now  and  change  your  dress." 

Linda  obeyed  like  a  happy  child. 


112  TEKEL, 


CHAPTER  XI. 

WHEN  Cassel  called  in  the  morning,  Linda  came  in 
smiling,  and  blushing  from  consciousness. 

"Why,  little  sister,"  said  Cassel  blithely,  "you  are  so 
very  lovely  this  morning.  What  has  happened  to  you  ?" 

"  I  have  on  one  of  my  new  dresses,"  she  replied,  with 
innocence  and  ardor.  "  They  are  all  done,  and  so  nice  and 
sweet.  I  am  so  much  indebted  to  you  for  your  care." 

Linda  was  really  beautiful.  She  had  a  fine  elastic  form, 
and  when  she  moved  without  assumed  airs  and  paces,  and 
without  confusion,  she  displayed  the  natural  and  undula- 
ting'grace  of  the  silver-footed  wild  gazelle.  Cassel  felt  a 
twinge  at  his  heart  for  having  ticketed  her  as  his  sister 
merely.  But  then  he  could  overleap  the  brother  mark,  if 
he  would,  at  a  single  bound. 

"  I  came  to  tell  you  to  be  ready  within  half  an  hour  for 
our  drive.  I  will  call  for  you  with  a  carriage." 

"  Why  not  take  my  carriage  ?"  asked  Linda. 

"  Because  your  horses  are  not  carriage  animals.  They 
are  draft  horses,  and  we  must  exchange  them.  I  know 
what  a  horse  is,  and  will  look  out  for  proper  ones,  and 
make  you  up  a  handsome  pair,  suitable  for  the  city." 

In  half  an  hour  Cassel  returned  with  a  well-appointed 
turn-out.  Linda  in  the  mean  while  had  dressed  herself 
anew;  but  Cassel,  on  sight  of  her,  cried, — 

"  Oho,  birdie  ;  that  dress  will  never  do  for  the  carriage. 
Run  and  get  the  one  with  the  spots  on  it  about  the  size  of 
a  mouse's  ear,  and  bring  your  light  shawls." 

Linda  tripped  away  as  if  heeding  a  brother's  chidings, 
her  heart  overflowing  with  happiness,  and  her  thoughts 
crowded  with  anticipation.  She  very  soon  reappeared 
with  the  proper  dress  on,  and  with  an  armful  of  shawls, 
which  she  spread  upon  a  large  sofa. 

"  Which  shall  it  be  ?"  she  asked,  with  perfect  confidence 
in  Cassel's  discretion. 

"  Exercise  your  taste,"  said  Cassel. 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  ]13 

With  some  hesitation  and  diffidence  she  made  a  selection, 
and  said, — 

"  I  like  this  best." 

"You  are  correct ;  it  is  the  best  for  this  occasion.  Now 
let  me  put  it  on  you  d,  la  mode,  that  is,  according  to  the 
present  approved  style,"  and  Cassel  adjusted  her  shawl, 
and  pinned  it  where  he  wished  it  to  stay. 

"  How  do  you  know  about  all  of  these  things  ?"  asked 
Linda,  who  had  her  back  toward  him. 

A  sudden  and  sweeping  change  came  over  Cassel's  face. 
He  turned  away  with  a  frown  so  terrible  and  an  eye  so 
fierce,  that  he  scarce  recognized  himself  in  the  mirror  at 
his  side.  Cassel  once  had  a  sister. 

"Now  for  your  hat,"  said  he,  not  replying  to  her  ques 
tion,  while  the  light  of  his  eyes' fierce  gleaming,  which  had 
momentarily  banished  their  customary  and  genial  holiday 
glow,  subsided,  smouldered,  and  died  out. 

"I  have  not  a  single  hat;  nothing  but  bonnets  and 
hoods,"  said  Linda. 

"We  must  have  a  hat,"  said  Cassel.  "A  sudden  de 
scent  upon  some  fashionable  milliner  is  now  in  order." 

"  But  what  shall  I  wear  to  the  milliner's  ?" 

"Nothing,"  said  Cassel,  pleasantly. 

"  What !     Go  upon  the  street  bareheaded !" 

"Why  not?  You  will  be  in  the  carriage  ;  and  did  you 
never  go  bareheaded  in  the  country  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir.     But  here — in  the  city  ?" 

"There's  not  so  much  difference  as  you  imagine.  You  are 
nobody's  slave,  to  be  made  to  do  this  or  that.  You  have 
freedom  here,  as  well  as  in  the  woods.  Look  now,  out  at 
this  window.  Do  you  see  that  young  miss  tripping  along, 
bareheaded,  swinging  her  hat  by  the  ribbon,  and  just  in 
time  to  furnish  me  with  an  illustration  ?  It  so  happens 
that  I  know  her  family,  one  of  the  best  born  and  wealthiest 
in  the  city.  She  is  well  bred,  and  knows  her  steps,  and 
yet  she  trips  with  hat  off.  Why  ?  Because  the  day  is 
warm,  she  is  on  the  shady  side  of  the  street,  and  it  suits 
her  mood  and  pleasure  not  to  wear  her  hat.  She  is  but 
a  girl,  it  is  true  ;  but  when  she  becomes  a  young  lady,  she 
will  never  depend  upon  Mrs.  Jones  for  her  walk,  Mrs. 
Brown  for  her  bow,  Mrs.  Tinker  for  her  attitudes,  or  upon 

10* 


114  TEKEL, 

anybody's  smirk  for  her  smile.  However,  as  you  are  not 
a  school-miss,  you  might  wind  a  veil  about  your  head 
until  we  get  to  the  milliner's.  But  I  want  you  to  notice 
particularly,  as  we  go,  that  nobody  will  take  an  observa 
tion  as  to  whether  you  have  anything  on  your  head  or 
not;  and  should  they,  it  would  only  be  because  your  head 

is  so  pretty,  and " 

" There  1"  said  Linda,  "my  hair  is  all  down;  and  it 
will  take  me  a  quarter  of  an  hour  to  fix  it." 

Cassel,  while  adjusting  Linda's  shawl,  bad  pulled  out 
all  of  her  hairpins,  and  her  hair,  relaxing  from  its  abun 
dant  coil,  fell  about  her  shoulders. 

"  No,"  said  he.     "  I  can  arrange  it  in  one  moment," 
and  he  shook  it  into   a   showery  golden  fleece.     Linda 
looked  into  a  mirror,  and  protestingly  said, — 
"  Why,  it  makes  me  look  as  wild  as  the  woods." 
"  And  most  vexatiously  bewitching,"  said  Cassel.  "  Come 
along  now,  and  let  your  hair  alone  ;  you  couldn't  improve 
it  with  a  day's  effort  before  the  glass." 

At  the  milliner's,  a  tasty  hat,  with  a  plume,  was  tied 
upon  the  young  widow's  pretty  head,  and  Cassel  felt  that 
he  would  not  be  willing  to  exchange  companions  writh  any 
one.  To  the  park  they  smoothly  rolled  along,  and  Cassel 
took  occasion  to  lecture  upon  every  salient  point  in  view. 
"The  best-bred  people,"  said  he,  "are  the  most  moderate 
people  in  the  world.  They  never  overdo.  (Driver,  go 
to  the  right,  and  drive  slowly.)  Look  you  now,  my  little 
sylvan,  at  that  handsome  carriage,  with  the  gray  horses, 
standing  there.  The  occupants  are  Mr.  Withe,  his  wife, 
and  his  daughter.  Everything  about  them  is  rich  and 
elegant,  but  not  glaring,  or  in  gaudy  colors.  Miss  Withe 
is  trimmed  pretty  much  as  you  are.  You  will  notice  that 
they  talk  as  easily  and  quietly  to  the  gentleman  on  horse 
back  as  though  they  had  met  him  on  a  country  road,  and 
no  one  but  themselves  were  present ;  whereas  there  are 
fifty  pairs  of  eyes  now  leveled  at  them.  The  gentleman, 
you  will  see,  sits  a  little  sidewise  on  his  horse,  as  a  man 
might  sit  who  had  met  a  neighbor  on  the  highway,  and 
was  exchanging  gossip  or  bargaining  for  corn.  The  atti 
tude  of  the  two  ladies  is  most  comfortable  and  natural, 
and  as  unconcerned  as  though  they  were  at  home  in  the 


OR   CORA    QLENCOE.  115 

family  room.  You  might  imagine  that  they  have  no 
style ;  and  yet  they  are  counted  of  the  very  best  style  in 
the  city.  Were  I  to  present  you  to  them,  you  would  feel 
at  ease  in  a  moment;  whereas,  should  I  put  you  in  among 
the  apes,  you  would  be  very  uncomfortable  indeed.  They 
would  kill  you  off  with  their  overcoming  nonsense  and 
sweeping  importance.  But  turn  this  way.  There  goes  a 
carriage  full  of  what  are  called  high-flyers.  They  are 
rich,  only, — and  thereby  vain.  See  them  bowing  them 
selves  into  double-bow-knots,  laughing  immoderately  at 
their  own  wit,  dispensing  honey-dripping  smiles,  or  super 
cilious  stares ;  attracting  merely  the  attention  of  the  idle, 
exciting  the  disgust  of  well-bred  people,  and  the  admira 
tion  of  fools.  Helter-skelter!  look  there,  following  them; 
and  burlesquing  them  to  perfection,  male  and  female  ;  a 
stable  groom  exercising  livery  horses,  and  airing  his  Dul- 
cinea.  See  how  the  fellow  noses  the  air,  as  a  running 
pointer  would  snuff  an  atmospheric  scent.  An  El  Paso 
Indian  would  take  them  for  prince  and  princess;  but  look 
at  that  newsboy,  with  his  finger  to  his  nose,  and  one  foot 
raised  in  derisive  '  all  hail.'  The  stable  groom  glories 
in  the  wake  which  he  follows,  and  is  enjoying  himself  at 
the  expense  of  the  high-flyers,  whom  he  can  readily  dis 
tinguish  from  the  thoroughbreds.  Here  is  another  picture. 
See  that  glittering  turn-out,  and  the  nonchalant  pair 
exquisitely  languishing  and  lolling.  Notice  the  extraor 
dinary  display  of  jewelry,  the  woman's  gaudy  fan,  the 
man's  indolent  cigar,  and  look  of  sleepy  disdain.  The 
man  is  a  professional  gambler,  and  conducts  what  is  called 
a  '  hell.'  The  woman,  whose  cheeks  owe  their  color  to 
paint,  may  be  his  wife,  and  as  likely  may  not  be.  They 
are  beyond  the  pale  of  good  society.  See  yonder ;  a  sward 
cotillon  party;  youth  enjoying  itself,  like  kids  upon  the 
lawn,  and  as  unconstrainedly  as  your  father's  lambkins 
out  in  Pennsylvania.  I  might  show  you  pictures  until  the 
sun  went  down ;  but  you  shall  have  other  opportunities  to 
look  and  learn.  These  things  are  all  new  to  you ;  metro 
politan  society  is  new  to  you ;  and  it  is  natural  that  you 
should  lack  confidence  coequally  with  your  inexperience, 
and  not  know  what  to  expect,  or  what  is  expected  of  you, 
when  thrown  with  these  veterans  of  social  turmoil.  Not 


116  TEE  EL, 

to  excite  your  vanity,  but  to  sow  the  seeds  of  confidence 
in  you,  I  will  assure  you,  that  during  our  drive,  so  far,  I 
have  not  seen  a  lovelier  or  more  stylish-looking  girl,  or 
one  more  tastefully  dressed,  or  who  has  behaved  in  better 
manner,  than  my  own  little  golden-haired  sister  by  my 
side.  And  do  you  know  the  reason  ?  It  is  this.  You 
have  laid  aside  your  assumed  mannerism,  which  you  have 
dreadfully  and  mistakenly  learned,  and  appeared  simply 
as  Linda.  Always  be  Linda,  pure  and  simple,  and  never 
enter  upon  anything  which  you  do  not  in  part  compre 
hend  ;  I  mean,  never  attempt  to  repeat  a  lesson  until  you 
have  learned  it.  You  saw  that  handsome  young  fellow 
stoop  from  his  horse  and  whisper  to  me  while  we  were 
driving  slowly?  What  do  you  suppose  he  said?  He 
asked  me  what  beautiful  little  bud  this  was  in  the  carriage 
with  me.  And  what  think  you  I  told  him  ?  That  you 
were  my  little  sister,  from  the  country.  'You  selfish 
fellow,'  said  he,  'she  is  city  bred.'  Now  think  of  Claude 
Melnotte,  as  his  acquaintances  call  him,  one  of  the  most 
fastidious  and  discriminating  young  gentlemen  of  New 
York,  asserting  that  you  are  a  genuine  city  bud.  From 
this,  you^can  judge  how  well  and  correct  you  appear, 
when  you  do  not  try  to  appear  well.  That  fact  should 
not  make  you  vain  and  sufficient,  but  encourage  you  not 
to  lay  aside  your  natural  loveliness  for  the  unlovely  style 
of  anybody.  Do  you  know  what  you  are,  right  now  ? 
You  are  a  delightful  little  country  girl,  recently  come  to 
the  city  to  learn  what  cannot  be  learned  in  the  country. 
There  are  thousands  just  such,  but  you  are  the  only  one  I 
ever  saw  without  guide  or  protector ;  without  some  one  to 
lead  you  intelligently,  and  assist  you  here  and  there  to 
discover  and  comprehend.  You  have  much  to  learn,  and 
you  cannot  learn  it  all  at  once.  You  must  take  it  gradu 
ally  ;  for  you  are  young,  and  have  plenty  of  time.  Although 
you  live  in  a  great  city,  which  appears  to  go,  day  in  and 
day  out,  by  compass  and  rule,  it  is  by  no  means  a  social 
martinet,  whose  rigid  and  minute  behests  you  are  to  obey 
with  utmost  precision,  but  the  indulgent  mother  of  innu 
merable  children,  who  can  run  and  play  in  their  own 
fashion,  preserving  only  a  degree  of  congruity,  and  neither  . 
expected  nor  desired  to  be  all  alike,  or  imitators  of  badlv- 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  117 

conceived  and  self-appointed  models.  There  is  an  indi 
viduality  about  every  person  which  renders  it  impossible 
for  Linda  ever  to  become  Lucinda  or  Clorinda,  though  she 
should  spend  a  lifetime  in  perverting  herself  to  that  end : 
and  furthermore,  it  is  easier  and  far  more  distinguished  to 
be  a  good  original  than  to  be  a  copy,  whether  good  or  bad. 
You  are  fortunate  in  two  respects :  fir§t,  in  having  so  little 
to  unlearn ;  second,  in  possessing  a  native  capacity  for 
pure,  well-toned,  and  unaffected  society.  With  a  guide,  a 
few  hints,  a  little  restraint  here,  and  a  little  urging  there, 
you  will,  almost  before  you  know  it,  be  at  home  in  the 
city,  and  as  free  and  happy  as  when  gathering  nuts,  or 
climbing  cherry-trees,  away  in  Pennsylvania.  But  you 
must  accustom  yourself  to  do  your  own  thinking,  notwith 
standing  your  guide ;  and  endeavor  to  look  not  only  upon 
the  surface,  but  into  the  deep  of  everything  around  you. 
When  you  are  perplexed,  or  need  advice,  or  assistance  of 
any  kind,  always  come  to  'brother,'  and  he  will  take  pride 
and  pleasure  in  aiding  you.  But  let  there  be  a  limit  to 
your  confidence  even  in  me,  your  brother ;  for  I  cannot 
stand  to  you  as  a  mother  or  a  father,  and  it  is  better, 
always  better,  especially  for  a  girl  like  you,  to  hold  a 
certain  reserve  of  trust,  which,  like  the  bullion  held  by  the 
banks,  is  the  basis  of  security,  and  reputation." 

"  I  feel  that  I  could  trust  you  without  the  reserve  which 
you  recommend,"  said  Linda. 

"Don't  do  it,1'  said  Cassel ;  "  for  the  heart  of  man  is  de 
ceitful  above  all  things  and  desperately  wicked.  That  is 
a  passage  of  Scripture  the  truth  of  which  is  universally 
admitted  by  Christian  and  alike  by  Pagan.  But  I  have  lec 
tured  enough  for  one  day.  I  am  coming  now  to  a  scheme 
which  I  have  in  my  mind,  and  which,  if  carried  out,  Avill  be 
a  better  school  for  you  than  all  the  teachings  of  which  I  am 
capable.  Listen,  and  I  will  state  it  in  full  and  particular. 
You  say  that  you  are  lonesome  ;  and  I  am  not  surprised  at 
it.  I  could  introduce  you  into  city  society  to-day,  or  to 
morrow,  but  you  would  be  doing  yourself  an  injustice,  with 
out  some  preparatory  training,  to  adventure  it.  Here  is 
my  scheme.  You  have  a  great  deal  more  house  than  you 
need.  You  have  room  for  at  least  ten  persons  additional 
to  your  present  family,  and  without  inconvenience.  We 


118  TEKEL, 

will  say  that  you  take,  as  guests,  self-supporting  of  course, 
a  few  ladies  and  a  few  gentlemen,  of  unexceptionable 
merit  and  connection,  and  who  themselves  visit  and  re 
ceive  freely.  They  could  be  readily  obtained,  and  made 
to  comprehend  your  object,  which  would  be  to  collect 
about  you  a  goodly  company,  a  little  colony  of  refined  and 
cultivated  people,  who  would  intermingle  pleasantly,  and 
make  you  their  queen  and  darling.  Your  house  would 
then  be  lighted  from  cellar  to  garret,  and  your  home  be 
full  of  life  and  cheerfulness.  In  a  single  month  you  would 
become  more  capable  of  the  outer  world  than  in  a  lifetime 
spent  as  now." 

Linda  was  fascinated.  She  wondered  why  she  had  not 
thought  of  it  before.  She  adopted  the  scheme  at  once 
and  eagerly. 

"  Do  not  be  in  any  haste,"  said  Cassel,  "  or  you  will 
get  company  which  you  may  repent  of.  I  expect  to  aid 
you,  and  to  come  live  with  you  myself." 

"  You  are  to  come,  of  course,"  said  Linda,  "  or  I  should 
be  dreadfully  amiss  in  everything."  • 

"  Leave  the  matter,  then,  entirely  to  my  arrangement, 
and  I  will  make  your  house  so  cheerful  that  you  will 
almost  wish  to  move  out  of  it,"  said  Cassel  gayly.  "  I 
will  get  companions  for  you,  such  as  you  need.  I  have 
several  in  my  mind  at  this  moment,  who  will  be  glad  to 
come,  and  whom  you  cannot  fail  to  like.  But  the  sun  is 
almost  set,  and  we  had  best  go  home." 

Arrived  at  the  Boyd  mansion,  Linda  timidly  asked, — 

"  Would  it  be  proper  for  me  to  invite  you  to  tea  with 
Uncle  Jesse  and  myself?" 

"Nothing  more  proper  in  you,  or  more  agreeable  to 
me,"  said  Cassel,  who  felt  like  chucking  her  under  the 
chin,  for  she  looked  so  absolutely  free  from  guile  and  self- 
assertion.  "And  now  that  we  are  here,  I  am  going  to 
get  you  to  show  me  over  your  house." 

"  Do  you  wish  to  see  it  ?"  said  Linda  brightly.  "  You 
can  then  tell  me  if  I  need  anything.  Come." 

As  they  went  over  the  mansion,  Cassel  made  his  obser 
vations. 

"Your  parlors  and  first  floor  are  just  a  little  over 
crowded  with  furniture.  You  can  have  some  of  the 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  119 

articles  moved  up-stairs.  I'll  tell  you  which.  Here,  on 
your  second  floor,  you  have  two  connecting  rooms.  I 
already  know  a  family  to  occupy  them, — a  gentleman,  his 
wife,  and  two  young  daughters.  Ah,"  said  Cassel,  peeping 
into  a  large  apartment  which  looked  upon  the  street, 
"  here  is  my  room.  Please  remember,  for  it  is  exactly 
what  I  want." 

"  You  shall  have  your  choice,"  said  Linda.  Where  she 
stood,  mainly  on  one  foot,  while  tapping  the  floor  with 
her  other  little  boot,  she  was  so  very  pretty,  and  fresh, 
and  fair,  and  uninvaded,  that  Cassel  was  almost  tempted 
to  take  every  room  in  the  house  at  one  grab,  with  Linda 
in  the  choicest  of  them,  and  probably  would  have  done  so, 
but  for  a  secret  fare  within  his  heart  which  brooked  no 
other  flame. 

"  These  rooms  here,"  he  continued,  "  are  suitable  for 
young  ladies.  On  our  third  floor  we  will  put  our  single 
gentlemen,  should  we  have  any." 

"  Are  you  not  single  ?  asked  Linda." 

"  Yes.  But  I  am  to  help  you  manage,  and  must  be 
convenient  to  all  parts  of  the  house.  You  must  not  call 
me  Mr.  Rapid  any  more,  but  brother,  and  then  we  will 
feel  so  easy  and  at  home  together." 

"What  will  you  call  me?"  asked  Linda. 

"  Sister,  and  Linda,  and  little  Sylvan,  until  I  make  you 
to  become  a  little  urban,  about  which  time  I  expect  you 
will  be  taking  some  other  name,  and  I  will  have  to  ex 
change  them  all  for  that  one." 

Linda  blushed.  She  bad  no  thought  of  marrying,  for 
she  did  not  know  what  it  was  to  be  a  lover.  Cassel  could 
have  taught  her  in  the  three  magic  words  "I  love  thee," 
but  as  he  had  never  spoken  except  as  a  brother,  the  little 
volcano  of  her  heart  was  asleep,  and  she  felt  that  it  would 
be  the  complement  of  happiness  to  have  him  for  a  brother, 
now  and  always. 

"  I  want  no  name  but  Linda,"  she  said.  "  You  can 
always  call  me  Linda,  and  sister,  if  you  will  always  be 
my  brother ;  but  I  dream  at  night  that  you  have  gone 
away,  and  I  wake  myself  with  my  own  sobbing." 

"You  find  me  on  hand  in  the  morning,"  said  Cassel. 

"  Yes ;  but  then  I  fear  at  night  that  my  dreams  are  true. 


120  TEKEL, 

No  one  cares  for  me  but  you.  In  the  day  my  heart  aches 
with  joy,  as  if  it  were  too  full.  At  night  it  aches  with 
fear,  and  is  bleak  and  empty." 

"  Linda,  do  you  ever  say  your  prayers  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"Then,  in  the  night,  when  it  is  so  silent  that  you  can 
hear  your  watch  ticking  off  the  time,  do  not  think  of  me, 
or  let  your  peace  hang  upon  a  thing  so  slight  and  evanes 
cent  as  I,  or  my  existence.  You  overprize  me.  I  do  not 
wish  to  weigh  so  heavily  against  your  individuality  and 
life  mission.  I  shall  not  leave  you,  you  little  dove;-  but 
do  not  suffer  me  to  become  the  corner-stone  of  your  tran 
quillity,  for  to-morrow  I  might  die,  or,  as  all  humanity  is 
prone,  do  that  which  might  shatter  your  hopes  where  they 
cling.  Do  you  ever  go  to  church  ?" 

"  I  have  no  one  to  take  me,  and  I  should  be  lost  there." 

"To-morrow  is  Sunday.  I  will  call,  and  we  will  go 
together." 

Tea  was  announced,  and  Linda  invited  Casset  to  the 
supper-room,  where  she  presided  with  charming  abashment. 
Uncle  Jesse,  a  caustic,  fool-hating,  have-my-ovvn-way 
looking  old  bachelor,  whom  Cassel  had  never  before  met, 
walked  into  the  supper-room  with  an  air  which  said  as 
plainly  as  the  nose  on  his  face,  "  /  stand  no  nonsense." 

Linda  accomplished  the  introductions,  and  Cassel  made 
some  pleasant  remark,  to  which  Uncle  Jesse  replied  with 
a  "  Humph." 

During  tea,  Linda  told  Uncle  Jesse  of  her  happy  day's 
drive,  and  of  her  projected  scheme  of  gathering  a  select 
company  of  permanent  guests  at  the  Boyd  mansion.  Her 
prattle  lasted  until  Uncle  Jesse  had  swallowed  his  tea. 
His  only  reply,  as  he  arose  and  started  for  his  den,  was 
"  Twad,"  by  which  he  meant  "  twaddle,"  and  immediately 
he  disappeared,  gritting  his  teeth. 

"Now  don't  you  see  what  he  is?"  protested  Linda, 
with  a  pensive  humor  in  her  face. 

"  I  like  him,"  said  Cassel,  laughing  freely.  "  He's  a 
gem.  Just  the  kind  of  uncle  for  you.  Leave  me  to  bring 
him  around." 

"Maybe,  after  all,  I  am  accountable  for  his  strange 
ways,  disgusting  him  with  my  simpleton's  doings,"  said 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  121 

Linda,  and  she  and  Cassel  laughed  merrily  at  the  too 
probable  truth  of  her  remark. 

In  the  morning,  which  was  the  Sabbath,  Cassel  called 
to  take  Linda  to  church. 

"  What  shall  I  wear  ?"  was  Linda's  first  inquiry. 

"  Your  blue  silk;  and  over  it  your  lace  shawl.  I  will 
adjust  the  shawl  for  you." 

"Please  do  not  pull  my  hair  down  again." 

"  No ;  it  does  very  well  as  it  is." 

"  Where  are  you  going  ?"  asked  Linda,  as  Cassel  stepped 
to  the  hall  and  started  up-stairs. 

"  To  see  Uncle  Jesse,"  said  Cassel,  smiling. 

"  Goodness  gracious !  you  had  better  not  stir  Mm  up 
now"  cried  Linda,  with  eyes  wide  open ;  but  Cassel 
laughed  pleasantly,  and  proceeded  to  knock  at  Uncle 
Jesse's  door.  The  old  gentleman  opened  his  door,  and 
looked  at  Cassel  with  harsh  surprise. 

"Good-morning,  Uncle  Jesse." 

"  Who  told  you  to  uncle  me,  sir  ?" 

"  I  do  so  out  of  respect,  I  assure  you." 

"  What  do  you  want  ?" 

"  Permission  to  accompany  your  niece  to  church." 

Uncle  Jesse  looked  at  Cassel  almost  askance,  while 
over  his  harsh  features  came  a  faint  expression  of  abated 
severity. 

"  Go  'long,"  and  he  shut  his  door. 

At  church,  the  sweep  of  the  grand  organ,  and  the  rich 
and  soaring  of  voices  the  choir,  overwhelmed  Linda,  and 
thrilled  her  through  and  through.  She  trembled  with 
excitement,  and  in  her  wakefulness  to  all  that  was  about 
her,  looked  as  wild  as  a  young  chamois. 

"  How  did  you  like  it  ?"  asked  Cassel  on  their  way 
home. 

"  It  almost  killed  me  with — with — I  don't  know  what." 

"Would  you  like  to  attend  regularly  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir.  I  did  not  know  there  was  such  a — such  a — 
grand  place  in  the  world." 

"  There  are  churches  of  much  more  imposing  grandeur 
than  this  one ;  but  you  must  remember  that  they  are  all 
humble  gateways  to  the  world  beyond.  The  pew  which 
we  occupied  was  mine,  but  I  have  transferred  it  to  you. 

11 


122  TEKEL, 

A  pew  at  church  is  considered  by  many  to  be  essential  to 
respectability,  if  not  to  salvation,  especially  among  your 
sex." 

"  You  are  so  good,"  said  Linda. 

"No,  I  am  not.     But  I  wish  you  to  be." 

"I  will  be,  if  you  will-teach  me  how." 

"  I  will  point  you  the  way,  but  mine  is  not  the  un 
erring  judgment  which  you  must  obey,  or  the  invincible 
arm  on  which  you  must  lean." 

"  When  we  came  out  of  church,  the  streets  looked  so 
strange,  and  worldly,  and  heedless." 

"  Yes.  You  saw  people  hurrying  to  dinner  as  if  their 
salvation  depended  upon  hot  soup." 

"  Is  a  theater  anything  like  these  city  churches  ?" 

"  No.  But  you  shall  see  and  judge  for  yourself.  To 
morrow  night  I  will  take  you  to  see  a  most  excellent  play, 
well  rendered." 

"  Is  it  a  proper  place  for  me  to  go  ?  But  I  need  not 
ask,  for  you  would  not  go  yourself  if  it  were  an  improper 
place." 

Cassel  smiled  at  Linda's  guilelessness,  but  it  was  a  smile 
of  increasing  affection,  not  one  of  ridicule.  He  said, — 

"  You  have  determined  to  lead  a  metropolitan  life  ; 
therefore  you  must  know  what  it  is  that  you  are  inhabit 
ing.  There  are  some  gems  among  the  innumerable  bau 
bles  upon  the  stage,  and  where  we  shall  go  to-morrow 
night  you  will  find  the  pomp  and  array  of  wealth,  a 
chaste  and  thrilling  entertainment,  and  an  opportunity  of 
enlarging  your  stock  of  ideas.  Generally,  theater-going 
is  not  good  ;  selectedly,  it  is  profitable  and  instructive.  I 
intend  to  take  Uncle  Jesse  along  with  us,"  humorously 
concluded  Cassel. 

"  Uncle  Jesse  /"  exclaimed  Linda.  "Impossible!  But 
what  shall  I  wear?"  asked  the  girl-widow,  abruptly 
changing  the  subject.  Cassel  laughed  heartily. 

"  Oh,  that  ever-recurring  and  vexatious  question,"  said 
he.  "  But  lose  no  sleep,  Linda;  you  are  provided.  For 
a  dress,  your  white  foulard  with  the  black  fringe  and 
velvet  bows.  I  will  send  around  a  hair-dresser  to  curl 
your  hair.  For  a  head-dress,  all  you  need  is  a  pair  of 
sugar-tongs  with  a  humming-bird's  feather  just  a  little 


OR   CORA    QLENCOE.  123 

drooping.  I  intend  to  make  more  than  one  person  envy 
me,  and  ask  what  little  -golden  head  it  is  by  my  side." 

Cassel's  object  was  not  to  flatter  Linda,  but  to  make 
her  feel  intrinsically  at  par  with  all  the  world,  for  he  in 
tended  soon  to  take  her  into  Society.  She  was  now  as  wax 
in  his  hands.  She  regarded  him  as  the  monarch  of  cir 
cumstances — everything  seemed  so  facile  and  right  with 
him.  When  under  his  pure  eye,  and  hearing  his  rich,  soft 
voice,  she  teemed  with  delight  and  contentment.  He 
could  flood  her  heart  with  joy  as  easily  as  the  Mexican 
irrigates  his  little  pedazo  de  tierra. 

The  next  morning,  Cassel,  who  had  got  an  inkling  of 
what  Uncle  Jesse  was  "up  to,"  appeared  at  the  old  gentle 
man's  door  with  an  armful  of  the  quaintest,  as  well  as  of 
the  newest,  maps  which  he  could  find  in  the  city.  In  less 
than  ten  minutes  he  and  Uncle  Jesse  were  closeted  to 
gether,  and  the  ensuing  evening  found  the  old  gentle 
man  ensconced,  with  Linda  and  Cassel,  in  a  box  at  the 
theater.  The  fact  was,  Uncle  Jesse  was  about  as  near 
lost  in  the  city  as  was  Linda,  and  only  needed  such  a 
cicerone  as  Cassel  to  make  him  as  adventurous  as  a  night- 
cat  and  as  gay  as  a  badger. 

At  the  theater,  Linda's  cheeks  glowed,  her  budded 
bosom  heaved,  and  her  bright  eyes  gleamed  with  the  pas 
sion  of  the  play,  and  Uncle  Jesse  cut  his  tobacco  with  the 
rapidity  of  a  sheep  chewing  up  sweet  daisies  in  the  spring. 
During  the  play,  an  old  gentleman,  crusty  as  frozen  and 
double-frozen  snow,  appeared  on  the  stage,  and,  with  a 
single  harsh  word,  testily  and  with  amusing  eccentricity 
"cut"  every  one  who  dared  to  approach  him.  Linda,  re 
ferring  to  the  caustic  actor  before  the  scenes,  turned  to 
her  uncle  and  said, — 

"  Uncle  Jesse,  that's  you." 

The  delighted  old  gentleman  roared  with  laughter,  and 
the  benches  taking  their  cue  from  the  boxes,  the  whole 
house  indulged  in  a  crashing  storm  of  mirth. 

"  See  what  a  fuss  you've  kicked  up,"  said  Cassel  mis 
chievously  to  Uncle  Jesse,  who  subsided  at  once. 

"Who  did  you  say  this  young  fellow  is  who  brought  us 
here?"  asked  Uncle  Jesse  in  a  whisper. 

"It  is  Mr.  Cassel  Rapid,  of  the  city,"  replied  Linda. 


124  TEKEL, 

"  Well,  I  can  say  this  much  for  you,"  continued  Uncle 
Jesse :  "  he's  the  only  person  you  ever  took  up  with  in 
New  York  that's  got  any  sense." 

Linda  thought  that  her  uncle  was  saying  a  good  deal 
for  Cassel  but  not  much  for  her.  But  she  didn't  care  ; 
she  was  happy. 

"Brother,"  said  Linda,  blushing  at  the  affectionate 
word  even  in  the  twilight  of  the  carriage  while  on  their 
way  home  from  the  theater,  "  what  are  you  going  to  do 
for  me  next  ?" 

"Uncle  Jesse,"  said  Cassel,  replying  indirectly  to  Linda's 
question,  "I  am  going  to  teach  her  how  to  dance." 

"  She  used  to  dance  with  the  best  of  them,"  responded 
the  now  tractable  Uncle  Jesse. 

"Nothing  but  cotillons,"  said  Linda. 

"  That  is  enough,"  said  Cassel ;  "  for  beyond  the  Cotil 
lon,  innocence  and  propriety  are  said  not  to  remain 
intact." 

"I  always  thought  there  was  something  wrong  about 
these  hug-dances,"  said  Uncle  Jesse,  "  and  we  agree.  I 
was  just  telling  Linda  here  that  you  were  the  only  per 
son  she  ever  took  up  with  that  had  any  sense." 

Cassel  couldn't  resist  the  impulse  to  pinch  Linda's  arm, 
and  the  two  youths  laughed  merrily  at  Uncle  Jesse's 
discretion. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

ONE  morning  a  jeweler  called  at  the  Boyd  mansion, 
and  succeeded  in  selling  Linda  a  set  of  what  he  stated  to 
be  "genuine  Indian  Ocean  Luna  Lustre  Pearls,"  for 
which  she  gave  her  check  on  Lewis  &  Capelle  for  four 
hundred  dollars. 

The  jeweler  left,  and  in  a  few  moments  Linda  was 
standing  before  a  parlor  mirror,  adjusting  and  admiring 
her  pearls,  when  Cassel  Rapid  came  suddenly  in  upon 
her. 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  125 

"  Vanity  of  vanities  !"  he  exclaimed.  "  Whoever  in 
vented  the  mirror  should  be  canonized  by  the  ladies.  But 
what  have  you  there  ?" 

"  A  set  of  new  pearls ;  the  genuine  Indian  Ocean  Luna 
Lustres,"  said  Linda,  with  euthusiasm.  "And  the  jew 
eler  let  me  have  them  at  cost  price  in  Europe.  He  is 
going  back  to  France  for  a  new  stock,  and  these  were  all 
he  had  unsold,  and  he  did  not  wish  to  take  them  back 
with  him." 

"  Let  me  look  at  them." 

Linda  passed  the  pearls,  which  were  in  fact  nothing 
but  wax,  over  to  Cassel.  A  little  darkey  down  South  once 
observed,  that  "  alligators  chaw  a  feller  all  up."  Cassel 
looked  at  Linda  as  if  he  would  as  willingly  as  not  imitate 
the  manner  of  the  alligator,  and  chaw  her  up. 

"  Why,  you  little  goosey  of  a  goose!"  said  he,  taking  the 
Luna  Lustres  and  crushing  them  in  his  palm  as  he  might 
have  done  so  many  humming-bird  eggs. 

Linda  was  terrified.  She  saw  at  once  that  she  had 
been  swindled,  and  she  was  very  unhappy  to  think  that 
Cassel  would  condemn  her  as  an  incorrigible  fool. 

"  Come  here,"  said  he,  and  he  led  her  into  an  ante 
room,  where  he  put  on  a  disguise  which  he  had  borrowed 
from  the  office  of  Hector  O'Dare,  and,  to  Linda's  amaze 
ment,  the  jeweler  stood  before  her. 

"Little  sister,  this  is  caution  number  one.  Until  you 
grow  wiser,  let  your  motto  be,  'never  trust  a  stranger.' 
I  hope  I  shall  not  have  to  repeat  my  lessons." 

"  Brother,"  said  Linda,  despondently,  "  you  will  never 
be  able  to  make  any  more  out  of  me  than  a  monkey." 

"  Then  I'll  make  a  very  nice  little  monkey  of  you," 
laughed  Cassel.  "  But  now  to  business.  To-morrow  I 
will  bring  you  a  cook, — a  man  cook."  Linda  opened  her 
eyes.  She  had  never  heard  of  such  a  thing.  "  He  is  to 
control  your  basement.  I  shall  also  bring  you  a  house 
keeper,  a  respectable  woman,  who  will  take  charge  of  the 
house  above  the  basement.  You  will  then  be  prepared  to 
receive  your  guests,  and  have  leisure  for  improving  your 
self.  On  the  day  after  to-morrow  I  shall  introduce,  as 
guests,  Mr.  Lake,  his  wife,  and  their  two  daughters,  one 
fourteen  and  the  other  about  five  years  of  age.  The 

11* 


]  26  TEKEL, 

family  are  unexceptionable,  and  have  had  the  advantages 
of  travel.  With  Mrs.  Lake  you  will  be  at  home  almost  as 
with  your  mother.  She  is  both  competent  and  willing  to 
teach  and  advise  you.  They  will  occupy  the  double 
rooms  on  the  second  floor." 

"When  are  you  coming?"  asked  Linda. 
"  On  the  same  day.  I  see  you  have  plenty  of  stable 
room  for  my  two  horses.  I  will  keep  them  here.  Your 
carriage  horses  were  too  heavy ;  I  have  traded  them  off. 
You  now  have  a  matched  pair  of  elegant  equine  antelopes, 
as  vain,  and  prancing,  and  high-headed,  though  not  so 
hard-hearted,  as  young  belles." 

"You  think  of  everything,"  said  Linda,  pouting  with 
self-disdain.  "I  am  no  account  at  all."  Then  brighten 
ing  a  little,  Linda  added,  "  But,  brother,  I  had  a  visitor 
yesterday." 

'Who  was  it?" 

'  Mrs.  Colver.     Is  she  of  the  ton  ?" 

'  What  do  you  know  about  ton  ?" 

'  But  she  was  so  easy  to  entertain." 

'And  consequently  you  thought  she  was  nobody. 
There  is  just  where  you  mistake  it  altogether.  It  is  the 
genuine  dollar,  and  not  the  counterfeit,  which  brings  its 
own  welcome  and  makes  its  stay  untiring.  But  I  will 
show  you  what  Mrs.  Colver  is  to-night.  She  gives  a 
large  party  this  evening.  I  have  an  invitation  from  her 
for  you.  You  are  to  go,  and  I  am  -to  go  with  you,  if  you 
will.  I  promise  that  you  will  see  sights." 

"  Then  her  call  was  a  made-up  thing  between  you  ?" 
suggested  Linda,  with  some  penetration. 

In  the  evening  Cassel  was  with  his  young  protegee, 
assisting  her  to  perfect  her  toilet  before  one  of  the  parlor 
mirrors  of  the  Boyd  mansion. 

At  Mrs.  Colver's,  Linda  was  dazzled ;  but  Cassel  kept 
her  upon  his  arm  until  he  had  explored  the  novelty  with 
her,  and  given  her  a  clear,  synoptic  idea  of  what  she  saw. 
The  music  was  excellent,  and  Cassel,  who  danced  well, 
but  had  not  indulged  himself  for  a  couple  of  years,  took 
Linda  out  upon  the  floor  and  put  her  most  ravishingly 
through  a  set  of  cotillons.  Linda  thrilled  with  pleasure 
from  top  to  toe,  and  with  the  buoyancy  of  opening,  charm- 


OR   CORA    GLEN  COS.  127 

ing  life,  felt  as  if  floating  and  swimming  upon  some 
ambrosial  tide.  Several  young  gentlemen  sought  intro 
ductions  to  her,  and  soon  discerning  how  guileless  and 
sweet  she  was,  took  especial  delight  in  keeping  her  under 
a  shower  of  joy. 

Late  in  the  evening,  Linda  was  sitting  with  a  young 
lady  upon  a  sociable,  in  distinct  view,  there  being  no  other 
persons  near.  Cassel  was  perambulating  with  a  haughty 
belle,  who,  by-the-way,  was  somewhat  affected  toward 
him,  and  secretly  jealous  of  his  interest  in  Linda.  She 
knew  as  well  as  any  one  who  Linda  was,  but  in  her 
imperious,  depreciating  way,  she  asked  of  Cassel,  while 
she  glanced  toward  the  sociable, — 

"  What  silly  thing  is  that  sitting  over  there  ?" 

Cassel  divined  with  what  this  shaft  was  tipped,  and  he 
determined  instantly  to  turn  it  back  upon  its  haughty 
launcher. 

"Why,  that  is  your  sister,"  said  he  innocently. 

"Oh,  no!  I  mean  the  girl  beside  her." 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  Cassel.  "I  mistook  your 
reference, — the  girls  are  so  close  together,  and  I  didn't 
observe  anything  peculiar  about  the  other  one,  who  is  my 
sister." 

CassePs  companion  bit  her  lip,  and  almost  stamped  upon 
the  floor,  at  what  was  to  her  an  intolerable  thrust.  She 
soon  requested  to  be  seated.  Cassel  resigned  her,  saying 
to  himself,  "  She  forced  me  to  be  rude.  Linda  is  worth 
more  than  she  in  every  particular.  She  has  nothing  to 
uphold  her  but  wealth,  which  is  more  often  inherited  by 
the  fool  than  by  the  sage,  and  far  more  often  acquired  by 
the  knave  than  the  honest  person?  Let  her  keep  her  silly 
sister  away  from  Linda,  and  her  silly  remarks  away  from 
me." 

"  Linda,"  asked  Cassel,  on  their  way  home,  "  which  do 
you  enjoy  the  most, — the  church,  the  theater,  or  the 
party  ?" 

"I  believe  I  like  the  party  best  of  all,"  said  Linda 
honestly. 

"Don't  run  wild  now  about  parties,"  said  Cassel. 
"  You  will  soon  get  used  to  themvand  they  will  become 
as  ordinary  as  beefsteak  for  breakfast." 


128  TEKEL, 

Linda  would  have  gone  with  Cassel  anywhere,  and 
listened  to  him  always.  She  was  fully  awake  from  her 
tiresome  and  dreary  dream,  to  a  real  existence,  full  and 
overflowing  with  charming  particulars.  She  felt  that  she 
was  a  different  person  from  the  late  solitary,  apprehensive, 
heavy-hearted,  and  circumscribed  Linda.  Her  outlook 
was  inviting  now,  and  becoming  familiar.  The  stately 
buildings  swallowing  up  their  throngs,  and  heretofore 
wearing  a  shroud  of  mystery  through  which  her  imagina 
tion  and  conjecture  vainly  attempted  to  make  their  way, 
were  being  turned  inside  out  to  her.  She  felt  more  at 
home  in  her  own  house,  as  though  she  had  a  right  there, 
and  not  as  if  every  one  who  entered  its  halls  held  prior 
sway,  and  might  order  her  to  begone. 

We  may  now  consider  Linda,  the  guileless,  in  a  path 
way  'on  either  hand  of  which  is  happiness.  Out  of  his 
nobility  of  soul,  a  wealthy  and  enchanting  young  stranger, 
who  could,  with  much  less  outlay  of  pains  and  patience, 
have  put  her  perhap.s  upon  the  road  to  despair,  chose  joy, 
and  not  shame,  for  her. 

Cassel,  Pontiac,  Rapid : — rather  a  singular  name,  indeed ; 
and  in  some  respects  having  a  singular  owner.  Two 
years  ago,  as  we  have  before  said,  that  name  might  well 
have  been  "Joyful."  Now,  it  might  better  be  "Indomita 
ble."  Linda,  to  whom  he  had  been  so  generously  gentle 
and  true,  and  who  repaid  him  with  such  unalloyed  trust 
and  affection,  was  no  more  essential  to  his  inner  life  than 
the  butterfly  which  fans  the  flower  is  essential  to  the 
breeze  that  rocks  the  forest.  Although  he  prized  Linda, 
and  would  doubtless  have  laid  down  his  life  in  her  defense, 
yet,  had  it  been  his  fate*  to  have  done  so,  it  would  have 
been  for  him  a  fate  like  that  of  one,  who,  organizing  a 
chief  battle,  falls  prematurely  in  some  insignificant  skir 
mish.  In  the  play  of  young  Rapid's  countenance  there 
was  a  feature,  or  the  absence  of  a  feature,  which  was,  in 
all  probability,  unique.  His  face,  regular,  pure,  and 
chiseled  in  manly  beauty,  never  wore  an  expression  of  abso 
lute  gravity.  When  it  was  at  rest,  the  beholder  was  re 
minded  of  a  finely-cut  countenance  upon  which  the  sculp 
tor's  genius  had  kindled  the  light  of  a  coming  smile.  The 
ordinary  perplexities  and  mishaps  which  make  men  swear 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  129 

and  contract  their  brows,  were  pondered  by  him  with  this 
pleasant  and  unruffled  light  ever  upon  his  face.  If  his 
reflections  became  lighter,  or  droll,  or  blithe,  he  either 
smiled  with  frankness  or  laughed  outright.  But  if  they 
took  an  opposite  and  peculiar  turn,  his  expression  leaped 
over  the  point  of  gravity  altogether,  and  a  frown  as  im 
placable  as  War  gathered  to  his  brow.  And  when  he  was 
alone,  this  frown  often  came  upon  his  face,  and  with  the 
quickness  of  light  transformed  its  placid  beauty  to  the 
grim  and  relentless  aspect  of  an  avenger.  The  observer 
would  be  compelled  to  the  conclusion  that  at  such  times  a 
merciless  pang  was  shooting  through  his  brain,  or  that 
there  was  some  one  thing  in  this  world  which  he  utterly 
hated  with  most  ravening  desire,  the  bare  thought  of 
which  was  sufficient  to  rouse  a  raging  lion  or  a  Lost 
Angel  within  his  breast.  Accustomed  calmly  and  with 
iron  nerve  to  stand  in  the  vortex  of  peril,  his  hand  trem 
bled  at  his  own  frown,  whose  terrible  gathering  seemed 
but  the  outward  signs  of  an  emotion  within  him  which 
was  as  volcanic  as  Truth,  and  resistless  as  the  waft  of 
storms.  It  would  be  false  to  say  that  Cassel  Rapid  was 
now  habitually  or  consecutively  unhappy.  It  would  be 
true  to  say  that  at  times,  and  often,  memory  swept  through 
his  soul,  scorching  its  way  like  a  flame  of  exquisite  ills. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

WHILE  Cassel  Rapid  was  training  and  cultivating  the 
fair  exotic,  which,  in  its  state  of  neglect,  had  excited  his 
sympathy  and  enlisted  his  care,  there  were  several  persons 
ranging  about  Creswood  who  were  not  regarded  as  legiti 
mate  denizens  of  that  fastness  of  tranquillity.  One  of 
these  strangers,  who  appeared  to  go  alone,  or  to  desire 
to  go  alone,  was  an  erect,  active,  good-looking  person,  with 
an  acute,  intelligent  countenance,  and  a  keen,  vigilant  eye, 
notwithstanding  the  superfluous  glasses  which  he  wore 
upon  his  nose.  He  was  dressed  in  substantial,  well-cut 


130  TEKEL, 

clothes,  and  seemed  to  be  ever  intent  upon  picking  up 
shells  from  the  beach,  examining  pebbles,  and  pricking 
into  clefts  of  the.  rocky  bluffs  with  a  steel  instrument 
after  the  fashion  of  a  stiletto.  Strapped  to  his  shoulder  he 
carried  a  small  satchel,  into  which  he  sometimes  dropped 
a  specimen  from  the  ocean,  a  chip  from  the  rocks,  or  a 
sample  of  the  soil.  The  latter  he  packed  in  jar-shaped 
vials,  which  he  corked  and  sealed  with  wax.  He  could  be 
seen  almost  every  day,  walking  about  and  discovering  the 
geological  characteristics  of  Creswood.  He  would  loosen 
a  stone,  hold  it  off  at  arm's  length,  and  glare  at  it  through 
his  spectacles,  then  draw  it  close  up  to  his  eyes  and  ex 
amine  it  as  minutely  as  if  searching  for  fossilized  animal- 
culae.  He  gave  out  that  he  was  a  geologist,  employed  in 
the  interests  of  science,  and  would  remain  in  that  neigh 
borhood  for  an  indefinite  period,  as  he  found  it  an  exceed 
ingly  interesting  spot,  abounding  in  fossils  and  traces  of 
hoary  antiquity.  He  seemed  particularly  attracted  by  the 
Larboard  Strand,  and  the  line  of  bluffs  which  rose  ab 
ruptly  against  it ;  and,  by  a  shrewd  observer,  might  have 
been  detected  in  topographical  as  well  as  geological  in 
vestigation.  However,  as  it  is  not  our  intention  to  excite 
the  curiosity  of  the  reader,  it  may  be  as  well  to  state  at 
once  that  the  geologist  was  none  other  than  Hector 
O'Dare,  the  person  with  whom  young  Rapid  held  an  in 
terview  in  the  correct  city  of  Boston,  and  one  of  the  most 
cunning  fellows  in  the  United  States.  Cunning  though 
he  was,  he  was  destined  to  be  put  to  his  wits  in  a  very 
few  days  after  he  made  his  appearance  at  Creswood. 
With  the  exception  of  a  very  few  persons,  the  dwellers  of 
Creswood  knew  as  little  of  geology  as  Towser  knows  of 
taxation,  and  in  less  than  a  week  the  geologist  became 
the  wonder  of  the  neighborhood,  and  was  pestered  beyond 
all  ordinary  patience  by  the  curiosity  of  the  people,  espe 
cially  the  younger  ones,  who  would  follow  him  about  for 
half  a  day  at  a  time,  in  a  vain  endeavor  to  discover  or 
comprehend  what  in  the  mischief  he  could  possibly  be 
after.  Some  said  he  was  hunting  for  gold,  or  silver,  or 
precious  stones,  or  coal,  or  buried  treasure.  Others  as 
serted  that  he  was  crazy.  And  others,  that  he  was  a 
necromancer,  and  was  in  league  with  Oswald  Huron  in 


OR    CORA    GLENCOE.  131 

some  Devil's  doings.  But  what  he  had  most  to  fence 
against  was  the  interest  which  Garland  Hope  manifested 
for  the  progress  and  results  of  his  researches.  Garland 
was  himself  a  student  of  geology,  and  now  that  a  scien 
tific  and  practical  geologist  had  come  into  his  neighbor 
hood,  it  was  a  chance  too  rare  to  be  lost,  and  nothing  but 
the  very  coolest  civility  on  the  part  of  O'Dare  restrained 
him  from  opening  up  the  boundless  subject  for  discussion 
and  information.  He  would  go  out  into  O'Dare's  chosen 
range,  and  fish  up  some  specimen  which  he  himself  could 
neither  name  nor  locate,  and  about  which  O'Dare  knew 
absolutely  nothing.  The  detective  could  have  canvassed 
Theology  with  the  young  minister  with  infinitely  greater 
scope  and  understanding.  He  was  a  proper  feeling  man, 
and  did  not  wish  to  treat  any  deserving  person  uncivilly, 
but  with  all  his  hedging,  and  deafness,  and  foxing,  he 
could  not,  in  this  instance,  avoid  doing  so,  without  great 
risk  of  an  open  exposure.  He  glided  out  of  answering  a 
number  of  direct  interrogatories  in  a  manner  which  Gar 
land  regarded  as  very  singular  indeed,  and  was  finally  com 
pelled  to  inform  the  young  minister  that "  he  never  discussed 
Geology  with  amateurs  ;"  at  the  same  time  facetiously  add 
ing  to  himself,  "  or  with  anybody  else."  With  the  rustic 
bumpkins  who  stared  at  him  and  anon  ventured  an  in 
quiry,  he  resorted  to  the  tactics  of  the  negro  phrenologist 
who,  being  interrogated,  replied,  "  that  amativeness  and 
costiveness  meant  exactly  the  same  thing," — O'Dare  telling 
the  bumpkins  that  geology  and  genealogy  were  synony 
mous,  and  meant  Pedigree.  They  all  knew  the  meaning 
of  pedigree  ;  for  during  the  last  season  some  one  had  kept 
an  ass  in  the  neighborhood,  and  not  to  know  the  pedigree 
of  that  ass  was  to  be  considered  a  greater  ass  than  the  ass 
itself. 

But  curiosity,  like  young  birds,  will,  unless  it  is  con 
tinually  fed,  pine  away  and  die ;  and  as  O'Dare  discreetly 
reduced  his  movements  to  the  monotony  of  an  empty 
craw,  the  curiosity  of  the  rustics  died  of  famine.  So,  after 
having  run  the  gantlet  of  the  entire  neighborhood,  he 
was  left  alone  to  pursue  his  researches.  After  numerous 
walks  up  and  down  the  Larboard  Strand,  and  repeated 
investigations  of  the  wall  of  rock  which  backed  it  up,  he 


5 

132  TEKEL, 

one  day  took  from  his  satchel  and  unfolded  a  sheet  of 
canvas  about  a  yard  square.  With  a  pencil  he  traced  the 
strand  and  the  wall  of  bluff,  Gale  Island  at  the  lower  or 
southern  end,  and  Cliff  Hall  in  view  at  the  upper  or 
northern  end  of  the  strand ;  the  island  and  Hall  being 
about  a  mile  and  a  half  apart.  Upon  that  part  of  his 
tracery  representing  the  beach  and  bluff  some  two  hundred 
yards  north  of  Gale  Island,  he  made  a  distinct  mark ;  and 
upon  the  corresponding  actual  locality  he  marked  the  rock 
wall  with  a  cross  of  red  chalk.  Between  the  red  cross 
and  Gale  Island,  and  about  fifty  yards  from  the  cross,  a 
bridle  path  led  up  to  the  hills  and  into  the  forest.  Between 
the  red  cross  and  Cliff  Hall,  to  the  north,  there  was,  for  at 
least  a  mile,  no  access  to  the  hills ;  no  way  to  escape  from 
the  beach  except  by  way  of  the  ocean.  We  are  particular 
in  describing  Larboard  Strand,  because  it  is  to  be  the 
theater  of  a  tragedy,  swift  and  mysterious. 

Several  miles  south  of  Gale  Island,  on  the  Starboard 
Strand,  was  a  ragged  string  of  huts,  the  property  of  no  one 
in  particular,  and  occupied  at  will  by  itinerant  nonde 
scripts.  In  one  of  a  group  of  these  huts,  at  the  present 
date,  were  three  persons:  Amy  Turnbolt,  the  niece  of 
Captain  Gale  ;  Jonas  Aiken,  the  young  villain  whom  Guy 
Rapid  had  taken  to  Texas  with  him,  and  now  a  grown 
man ;  and  Gilders,  also  originally  of  Creswood,  the  man 
whom  Cassel  Rapid  had  compelled  to  deliver  up  a  certain 
valuable  paper  at  a  card-table  in  Boston. 

Amy  was  in  a  bad  humor  from  some  cause,  and  went 
out  of  the  hut.  Jonas  Aiken  wheeled  his  chair,  turned 
his  back  to  Gilders,  and  stuck  his  feet  out  of  a  window. 
Gilders  got  up  softly,  drew  a  revolver,  pressed  the  trigger, 
and  cocked  it  without  clicking  it,  and  leveled  the  pistol 
at  Jonas  Aiken's  back.  In  this  position  he  stood  for  ten 
seconds.  His  countenance  changed,  and  lowering  his 
weapon,  he  said  to  himself, — 

"  Something  urges  me  to  make  sure  of  him ;  but  he  is 
not  my  game,  and  I  will  not  rob  the  owner.  If  ever  I 
had  a  prayer,  it  is  that  the  hand  of  that  gallant,  noble 
boy  may  not  fail  him  when  he  comes  upon  this  hellion." 

Gilders  sat  down  as  softly  as  he  had  risen,  and  Jonas 
Aiken  never  knew  how  near  he  then  was  to  the  pit  of 
death. 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  133 

Amy  Turnbolt  reappeared,  and  sat  down. 

"  How  much  do  I  owe  you  for  board  ?"  asked  Gilders. 

"Eleven  dollars,"  replied  Amy. 

"  Here  is  your  money,  and  here  is  my  good-by,"  said 
he,  extending  his  hand. 

"Where  are  you  going?"  asked  Jonas  Aiken. 

"To  California,  maybe." 

"  I  wish  you'd  let  me  have  about  twenty-five  before  you 
start,  I'm  strapped." 

"  You  are  already  in  my  debt,  of  old ;  and  I  have  no 
money  to  spare." 

"  Suppose  I  should  make  you  spare  it  ?"  said  Aiken, 
with  a  fierce,  contemptuous  look. 

Gilders  did  not  answer,  but  with  his  hand  upon  his 
pistol  and  his  eye  upon  Aiken,  he  backed  out  of  the  hut, 
and  was  seen  no  more  in  Creswood. 

Very  soon  after  Gilders'  departure  there  was  a  distinct 
knock  at  the  door  of  the  hut.  Aiken  actively  withdrew, 
for  his  crimes  made  him  apprehensive,  and  Amy,  answer 
ing  the  knock,  found  herself  face  to  face  with  O'Dare. 
She  had  seen  the  geologist  and  had  heard  a  great  deal 
about  him :  she  consequently  invited  him  in  with  some 
curiosity.  O'Dare,  greatly  to  his  surprise,  had  met  with 
Gilders  a  few  days  before,  and  had  gained  information 
from  him.  Gilders  had  recognized  O'Dare  as  a  persoa 
whom  he  had  met  in  another  and  very  different  characto^ 
but  the  detective  had  secured  the  silence  of  the  cattle 
herder  by  mentioning  the  name  of  John  R.  Lake,  and,  in 
a  very  friendly  manner,  hinting  him  off  to  California. 

O'Dare  saw  that  the  room  into  which  he  was  invited 
contained  three  chairs  only ;  and  he  managed  to  discover, 
before  taking  a  seat,  that  two  of  the  chairs  were  warm 
from  recent  occupation.  He  was  satisfied  that  at  least  one 
person  had  left  the  room  at  his  approach. 

"Are  you  the  mistress  here  ?"  he  asked  of  Amy. 

"Yes." 

"  You  do  not  live  alone  ?" 

"  No.     I  keep  a  few  boarders,  but  they  are  now  away." 

"Laborers,  are  they  ?" 

"  Well,  yes  ;  that  is,  I  believe  they  are." 

"  When  will  thev  return  ?" 
12 


134  TEKEL, 

"  That  is  more  than  I  can  tell." 

At  this  moment  O'Dare's  quick  eye  detected  a  man  spy 
ing  into  the  room  between  the  chinks  of  the  hut.  A  few 
seconds  passed  when  a  door  opened  and  the  man  walked 
in  with  a  proprietary  air. 

"  Good-morning,  sir,"  said  O'Dare,  at  the  same  time 
observing  to  himself,  "You  are  my  man  and  no  mistake." 

Jonas  Aiken  was  a  muscular,  dark  man,  rather  tall,  and 
with  hooded  eyes,  out  of  which  looked  evil,  cunning, 
suspicion,  and  alertness.  With  ..investigating  eyes  he  said 
to  O'Dare,— 

"I  don't  think  I  ever  saw  you  before." 

"Nor  I  you,"  answered  the  detective,  who  noticed  that 
Aiken  kept  his  revolver  handy. 

"  Where  are  you  from  ?" 

"I  am  the  gentleman  from  Geology,"  said  O'Dare, 
adjusting  his  spectacles  in  a  very  eccentric  manner,  "  trav 
eling  about  in  search  of  the  vestiges  of  the  Silurian,  De 
vonian,  Carboniferous,  Reptilian,  Mammalian,  and  Golden 
ages. " 

"And  otherwise  a  damn'd  book-fool,"  said  Aikeii  to 
himself.  "Well,"  continued  he,  addressing  O'Dare,  "what 
do  you  want  here  ?" 

"  A  man  to  do  some  work  with  a  pick." 

The  interview  between  O'Dare  and  Aiken  resulted  in  a 
bargain,  this  being  Saturday,  that  on  Monday  morning 
Aikeu  should  go  to  work  picking  the  drift  from  a  crevasse 
where  O'Dare  had  marked,  with  a  red  cross,  the  rock  wall 
of  the  Larboard  Strand,  and  to  continue  to  excavate  until 
O'Dare,  by  stopping  his  pay,  should  notify  him  to  quit. 

When  O'Dare  left  the  hut,  Aiken  turned  to  Amy,  and 
with  a  selfish,  unpleasant  laugh,  said, — 

"^Any  damn'd  fool  ought  to  know  there's  no  gold  in 
these  bluffs.  This  fellow  is  crazy.  I've  heard  of  him, 
roving  about  here  pecking  into  rocks,  bottling  dirt,  and 
bagging  shells,  for  the  last  week  or  two.  But  I'm  strapped, 
and  if  I  don't  work  any  gold  out  of  the  bluffs  for  him,  I'll 
work  some  out  of  his  pocket  for  me,  and  keep  it  up  as  long 
as  he  dares  to,  unless  I  get  wind  of  the  Devil  on  horse 
back." 

"  Who  is  this  '  Devil  on  horseback,'  and  what  makes 
you  so  afraid  of  him  ?"  asked  Amy. 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  135 

"  I  tell  you  again,  Amy  Turnbolt,  he's  a  handsome 
devil  that  rides  a  pale  horse  with  black  mane  and  black 
feet.  He's  been  here  once,  but  went  away,  I  hope,  for 
good.  I  don't  want  to  meet  him  ;  so,  if  you  hear  of  him, 
it  will  stand  you  in  hand  to  let  me  know  of  it.  I  owe 
him,  and  he's  determined  to  collect." 

"  And  I  tell  you  again,  Jonas  Aiken,  that  you  must 
hunt  some  other  place  to  board.  I  do  not  like  this  skir 
mishing  about  every  time  that  any  person  knocks  at  the 
door ;  and  I  won't  prevaricate  for  you  any  longer.  And 
furthermore,  I  am  going  back  to  Uncle  Gale's.  I  was  a 
fool  for  ever  leaving  him." 

"Very  well,"  said  Aiken;  "when  you  go,  I'll  run  the 
shebang  myself.  These  huts  are  as  much  mine  as  yours, 
anyhow." 

"  Not  until  I  get  out  of  them,  sir,"  said  Amy  resolutely. 
"  When  it  comes  to  that,  I'll  see  who  has  the  most  friends 
in  Creswood  between  us." 

On  the  morrow,  which  was  Sunday,  Jonas  Aiken  went 
upon  the  Larboard  Strand  to  have  a  look  at  his  field,  or 
rather  his  spot,  of  labor. 

"  Not  so  hard  after  all,"  said  he  to  himself,  as  he  looked 
at  the  red  cross  chalked  upon  the  rock ;  "  and  if  I  don't 
tinker  the  work  for  as  many  days  as  that  fool  can  be 
coaxed  to  pay,  then  let  some  sensible  man  kick  me  into 
the  sea." 

Strolling  up  the  Strand,  he  came  upon  Cora  GlencOe, 
who  was  seated  on  the  Tarpeian  Rock.  She  was  reading, 
and  must  have  been  exceedingly  interested,  for  she  did 
not  observe  Aiken's  approach,  and  was  only  apprised  that 
he  had  stopped  in  front  of  her  by  the  deep  growl  of  a 
powerful  dog  which  lay  at  her  feet.  She  raised  her  head, 
and  Aiken  saw  that  she  had  been  weeping. 

"  What  is  it  that  distresses  one  so  beautiful  ?"  asked 
Aiken,  who  did  not  lack  for  words  or  blandishments. 

Cora  answered  him  nothing,  but  kept  her  firm  dark  eyes 
fixed  upon  him  as  though  he  had  been  some  dangerous 
animal  from  the  overhanging  forest. 

"  Why  do  you  weep  ?"  persisted  the  man. 

Cora  gazed  at  him  resolutely  and  silently.  She  felt 
that  the  man  was  one  to  beware  of.  But  she  did  not  know 


136  TEKEL, 

that  she  looked  Hell  in  the  face,  as  her  sweet,  unquailing 
.eyes  rested  upon  him. 

Aiken  glanced  up  the  strand:  there  was  no  one  in 
sight.  He  glanced  southward,  and  seeing  Johnny  Gale 
with  his  mother  and  sister  pleasure-walking,  he  turned 
away  and  continued  his  stroll. 

Cora  Glencoe  had  never  spoken  to  any  member  of  the 
Gale  family.  Notwithstanding  this  fact,  the  Gales  bore  her 
no  malice,  for  all  their  charges  were  laid  at  the  threshold 
of  Oswald  Huron,  with  whom,  they  were  satisfied,  Cora  led 
a  most  wretched  and  withering  life.  They  had  often  pitied 
her  in  their  fireside  conversations,  for  they  knew  from 
Mr.  Hope  that  she  was  a  pure-hearted,  lovely,  dauntless 
little  girl,  fighting  daily  and  hourly  with  the  fate  which 
bound  her  to  an  almost  intolerable  existence.  Out  of 
human  sympathy,  then,  when  they  were  about  to  pass  her, 
they  looked  over  toward  the  Tarpeian  Rock  on  which  she 
sat.  What  was  their  surprise  to  see  her  acknowledge 
their  regard  with  an  inclination  of  her  head,  which  had 
more  of  apology  than  condescension  in  it.  Very  kindly 
and  politely  they  responded,  and  passed  on. 

Thinking  of  the  man  upon  whose  evil  countenance  she 
had  just  looked,  and  fearing  that  he  might  return  and 
find  her  alone,  Cora  descended  from  her  seat  upon  the 
rock,  and,  in  the  rear  of  the  Gales,  proceeded  slowly  to 
ward  Cliff  Hall. 

Carroll  May,  who  apparently  had  been  delayed  at  the 
island,  and  was  endeavoring  to  overtake  the  Gales  in 
their  promenade,  came  briskly  along,  and  was  about  to 
pass  Cora,  when,  hearing  his  steps  behind  her,  she  turned 
suddenly  and  looked  him  full  in  the  face.  With  a  polite 
ness,  possibly  indiscreet,  but  certainly  irrepressible,  he 
bowed  to  her,  not  expecting  her  to  regard  him  in  the 
least.  But  he,  even  more  than  the  Gales,  was  astonished, 
when?  with  a  manner  exquisitely  sad,  she  bid  him  good- 
day,  and  courageously  requested  him  to  halt.  Before  his 
happy  wonder  had  time  to  expend  itself  she  handed 
him  the  book  which  she  had  been  reading,  and  said, — 

"  Mr.  May,  here  is  something  which  belongs  to  you. 
I  picked  it  from  the  strand  but  an  hour  ago.  I  have  read 
it  twice.  Ignorance  of  its  contents,  and  finding  it  open 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  137 

and  astray,  caused  me  to  look  into  it.  A  glance  made 
it  impossible  for  me  to  close  it.  I  know  that  I  have  tres 
passed  upon  what  to  you  is  sacred.  But  consider  that  to 
me  it  instantly  became  as  essential  as  it  is  sacred  to  you, 
and  you  will  forgive  me.  May  the  good  God  bless  you, 
and  forever  prosper  you  !"  and  Cora  turned  and  walked 
away. 

Carroll  felt  as  if  he  had  been  shocked  by  a  sensation 
battery  which  had  agitated  every  chord  within  his  breast. 
Never  had  Cora  looked  into  his  eyes  or  vouchsafed  him  a 
word  before.  He  knew  that  it  was  madness  to  love  her, 
but  who  is  ever  mad  from  choice  ?  or  who  that  is  mad 
can  help  being  mad  ?  He  knew  that  the  very  tie  which 
now  existed  between  himself  and  Cora  was  a  bloody 
one,  which  effectually  severed  them  forever,  and  yet  the 
fated  command  to  forget  her  caused  him  the  more  intensely 
to  remember. 

The  book  which  Cora  had  restored  to  its  owner  dispelled 
a  life-long  illusion.  It  had  been  originally  a  blank-book, 
in  size  about  five  by  six  inches.  It  was  filled  with  manu 
script,  plain,  regular,  and  neat  as  print.  It  contained  over 
fifty  pages,  devoted  exclusively  to  Carroll's  family  history, 
from  which  he  learned  of  his  father's  character,  and  par 
ticularly  of  the  motives  which  impelled  him  to  seek  an 
alternative  which  resulted  in  his  death.  The  name  of 
Oswald  Huron  frequently  occurred  on  its  pages,  and  fur 
nished  the  irresistible  attraction  which  caused  Cora  to 
begin  what,  when  once  begun,  could  not  be  relinquished 
until  it  was  read  and  re-read.  It  was  a  faithful  record, 
but  totally  devoid  of  bitterness.  It  was  a  vindication  of 
the  motives  of  the  slain ;  not  an  arraignment  of  the  slayer. 
It  was  discernible  that  the  heart  of  a  good  man  had  in 
fluenced  and  guided  the  head  which  had  arranged,  and  com 
pacted,  and  tempered  the  facts  recorded.  Instead  of  inciting 
to  revenge,  they  breathed  a  sigh,  pensive  with  regret,  and 
exhaled  a  perfume  which  quieted  the  spirit  with  an  exquisite 
sadness,  like  that  which  is  borne  through  the  senses  to  the 
soul  by  the  scent  of  flowers  blossoming  over  the  tomb.  In 
this  record,  Captain  Gale  had  more  than  complied  with  the 
request  of  the  dead  that  he  should  acquaint  the  son  where 
fore  the  father  died  by  violence.  Next  to  the  sarcoph- 

12* 


138  TEKEL, 

agus  which  held  his  father's  ashes,  that  little  book  was 
sacred  to  the  boy.  He  had  unaccountably  dropped  it  on 
the  strand ;  but  that  Cora  had  found  it  and  wept-  over  it, 
and  hallowed  him  with  a  blessing  fresh  and  spontaneous 
from  her  pure  heart,  gave  joy  to  its  loss  and  rapture  to  its 
recovery.  But  in  his  heart  there  came  and  sat  a  wretched 
pang  when  he  thought  of  the  rivulet  of  blood  which  jetted 
from  his  father's  breast  and  sang  of  death  as  it  ran  be 
tween  himself  and  Cora ;  that  rivulet,  like  an  impassable 
flood,  over  which  no  earthly  sail  could  bear  him  to  her 
side. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

IT  was  Monday,  the  day  succeeding  the  events  recorded 
toward  the  end  of  the  last  chapter.  A  summer  evening's 
rosy  pomp  clothed  the  sea-waters  with  a  coat  of  color,  and 
gave  to  each  ambitious  wave  a  jeweled  crest.  As  myriad 
kings  have  risen  in  the  earth,  received  their  crowns,  and 
fallen  back  to  dust,  so  these  aspiring  waves,  towering, 
were  only  jewel-capped  in  time  to  sink  again  into  the 
eternity  of  waters. 

Cora  Glencoe  sat  upon  the  Tarpeian  Rock,  her  brave 
dog  at  her  feet,  while  the  sea  lapped  the  beach  as  though 
its  sands  held  everlasting  and  uncloying  sweetness.  In 
a  voice  of  touching  melancholy  she  was  singing  "  Beau 
tiful  Venice,  the  Bride  of  the  Sea,"  and  looking  far  away 
to  where  the  rim  of  waters  joined  the  horizon.  Where  she 
sat  the  celestial  glow  gave  luster  to  the  rich  auburn  of  her 
head.  Her  eyes  were  very  dark,  and  thrilled  with  an 
intense  longing,  as  if  she  would  fain  go  where  she  gazed 
afar.  Tears  dew-dropped  her  lashes,  and  hung  upon  cheeks 
as  pure  and  fair  as  tinted  porcelain.  Her  mouth  was  as 
tender  as  the  "there,  then"  of  a  young  mother  to  her 
first  born.  Lovely  as  imagination,  she  was  equally  sad 
and  bleak,  in  these  the  days  of  her  early  youth.  Oswald 
Huron — her  strange  father — filled  her  mind  with  dread, 
and  her  bosom  with  almost  every  feeling  but  that  of  respect 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE  139 

or  affection.  Not  that  he  abused  her  person ;  but  his 
mind  was  dark,  his  soul  tempestuous,  and  his  character 
blemished  and  awry.  She  could  not  love  him,  and  she 
had  no  one  else  to  love.  She  was  famishing  for  life's 
fragrance,  and  often,  when  alone,  her  heart  would  gush 
with  'agony  and  pent  affection,  and  she  would  give  her 
very  dog  those  tender,  fiery,  and  priceless  bosom-caresses 
which  otherwise  must  waste  upon  the  air.  Cora  had  long 
learned  to  think  for  herself,  and  in  every  glance  of  her 
eyes  there  seemed  to  be  a  reckoning.  She  was  writing 
out,  and  adopting,  a  code  to  govern  her  through  life.  It 
was  founded  in  the  religion  taught  by  her  venerable  pastor, 
Mr.  Hope,  and  embodied  her  own  ideas  of  right  and 
wrong.  When  it  should  be  finished,  she  determined  to 
cling  to  it,  let  the  world  stray  as  it  might.  She  was  now 
adding  a  new  chapter ;  a  chapter  prompted  and  dictated 
by  the  contents  of  the  little  book  which  she  had  picked 
from  the  strand,  and  which  revealed  to  her,  or  reminded 
her  of  a  phase  not  yet  considered.  If,  before,  she  had 
regarded  her  father  with  feelings  akin  to  horror  and 
mingled  with  fear,  she  now  saw  him  robed  in  the  gloom 
of  the  murderer,  the  man-slayer ;  and  although  she  could 
not  doubt  the  truth  of  the  indelible  story  which  she  had 
read,  at  times  she  revolted  against  it  with  the  very  pathos 
of  protest,  and  endeavored  to  flee  from  a  fact  which  she 
could  only  contemplate  with  utter  dismay  and  despair. 
She  even  canvassed  in  her  mind  whether  it  was  not  her 
Christian  and  ethical  duty  to  cleave  her  existence  forever 
from  that  of  her  father,  and  go  out  into  the  world  and 
buffet  for  a  new  life.  But  she  was  restrained  and  bound 
by  a  lingering  hope  that  at  some  good  hour  and  day  he 
would  scourge  himself,  and  cast  out  his  evil  nature.  She 
herself  might  conduce  to  that  end.  Cora's  sorrow  and 
lamentation  was  vital,  and  would  have  consumed  her  had 
it  been  mute ;  but  she  gave  it  voice,  sobbing  in  her 
chamber,  crying  to  Heaven,  or  singing  mournfully  to  the 
heedless  waves. 

Looking  down  the  strand,  which  lay  between  the  bluffs 
and  the  sea-line  like  a  sanded  street  backed  by  the  rude 
walls  of  nature  and  fronting  on  a  boundless  waterscape, 
she  could  see,  some  hundreds  of  yards  away,  the  Geologist 


140  TEKEL, 

and  his  hired  man — O'Dare  and  Aiken — at  work  against 
the  face  of  the  rocks.  She  saw  O'Dare  quit  the  spot  and 
start  up  the  beach,  leaving  Aiken  to  continue  his  labor 
alone.  He  would  soon  pass  her,  and  she  had  a  curiosity 
and  a  desire  to  have  a  good  look  at  him.  The  science  of 
which  he  professed  to  be  a  practical  student  had  often 
carried  her  mind  down  into  the  catacombs  of  the  buried 
Ages.  Her  life  was  distressingly  lonely,  and,  when  not 
employed  in  domestic  duties,  she  almost  dreamed  the 
hours  away,  by  the  shore,  watching  the  water  as  it  bolted 
the  sands  at  her  feet.  As  the  sprig  of  mountain-sorrel, 
or  the  Alpine  rose,  carries  the  imagination  to  dizzy  heights 
and  snow-capped  shafts,  so  the  simplest  shell  washed  up 
by  the  waves,  plunged  her  thoughts  away  into  the  vast 
beds  of  the  ocean,  where  they  reveled  in  submarine 
scenery,  with  its  couched  grottoes,  its  hill  places,  and  its 
plains,  until  Imagination  snapped  upon  its  stretch,  and 
rose  to  the  surface,  impotent  as  the  air-bubble. 

As  O'Dare  was  about  to  pass  Cora,  he,  as  if  upon 
second  thought,  halted  in  front  of  her  and  addressed  her 
thus, — 

"  Permit  me,  young  miss,  with  the  greatest  respect,  to 
greet  you  '  good-evening.'" 

Cora  looked  at  him  mildly.  His  voice  was  .kind,  his 
appearance  respectable,  and  his  air  reassuring.  She 
answered, — 

"  I  could  not  refuse  so  simple  a  request,  accompanied  as 
it  is." 

O'Dare  bowed,  and  continued, — 

"  Do  you  not  fear  to  go  alone  so  much?" 

In  reply,  Cora  patted  her  dog  on  the  head.  He  growled 
at  the  stranger. 

"A  faithful  guard,"  said  O'Dare,  looking  at  the  dog, 
"but  not  always  a  sufficient  one." 

"  What  have  I  to  fear  ?"  asked  the  young  girl. 

"  Why,  me,"  said  O'Dare  smiling,  "  in  the  absence  of 
something  more  frightful." 

"  Why  should  I  fear  you  ?" 

"You  do  not  then  take  me  to  be  crazy  ?" 

"  I  regard  Geology  as  a  Science,  not  as  a  Lunacy,  if  you 
refer  to  your  repute  among  us  rustics." 


OR   CORA    OLENCOE.  141 

"  Neither  do  you  take  me  to  be  dangerous  ?" 

"Not  from  your  appearance." 

O'Dare  drew  from  his  breast  a  small,  ivory-handled  re 
volving  pistol.  It  was  a  gem  weapon. 

"  Do  you  see  this  ?"  asked  he,  holding  it  up. 

"  I  do,"  said  Cora,  turning  a  shade  paler  than  her 
wonted  color.  Then,  with  an  expression  of  features  which 
O'Dare  could  not  interpret,  she  added  with  vehemence, — 

"It  is  a  demon!" 

"True,"  said  O'Dare,  "and  demons  use  it;  therefore 
men  are  compelled  to  pit  demon  against  demon." 

"  Rarely,"  was  Cora's  reply. 

"You  say  you  have  nothing  to  fear,  here  and  alone. 
What  prevents  me  from  killing  you  ?" 

"  You  are  eccentric  in  your  questions,"  said  Cora. 
"  But  if  there  were  no  other  restraint,  absence  of  motive 
would  prevent  you." 

"  You  answer  well.  Can  you  imagine  anything  worse 
than  to  be  killed  ?" 

"Yes." 

"What  is  it?" 

"To  kill." 

"  Anything  worse  than  that  ?" 

"No." 

"  Your  innocence  puts  you  at  fault." 

"Is  there  a  worse  thing  than  the  murderer?" 

"Yes." 

"What  is  it?" 

"The  Spoiler,"  said  O'Dare,  with  deep  emphasis. 

"  I  do  not  discover  your  meaning,"  said  Cora,  after  a 
moment's  reflection. 

"  Have  you  read  Shakspeare's  works  ?" 

"Yes." 

"The  whole  of  them?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Do  you  remember  Tarquin  ?" 

A  sudden  light  was  thrown  upon  O'Dare's  meaning. 
The  young  girl  said, — 

"Please  discontinue  your  catechism." 

O'Dare  tossed  the  pistol  into  Cora's  lap.  The  dog 
sprang  up  to  defend  his  mistress.  The  detective  quickly 


142  TEKEL, 

took  off  his  spectacles  and  fixed  a  brilliant,  piercing  eye 
upon  him.  With  a  deep  growl  the  faithful  animal 
crouched  at  Cora's  side. 

"I  have  disarmed  myself,"  said  O'Dare.  "You  now 
have  both  dog  and  demon.  Permit  me  to  speak  to  you  as 
a  man  who  especially  knows  "the  world.  I  have  already 
done  you  a  service  by  recalling  to  your  mind  the  name  of 
Tarquin.  Let  me  tell  you,  Cora  Glencoe,  that  every  age 
has  its  Tarquins,  and  the  present  is  prolific  of  them.  You 
go  too  much  alone ;  but  if  you  will  go  alone,  accept  that 
demon  which  I  have  tossed  into  your  lap,  and  carry  it,  for 
it  may  ward  off  a  yet  greater  demon  ;  such  a  one  as  Tar 
quin.  Look  what  it  will  do ;"  saying  which,  he  drew 
another  pistol,  a  mate  to  the  first,  and  directing  Cora's 
eye  to  a  small  white  blossom  against  the  bluff,  he  raised 
his  arm  and  fired.  The  bullet  cut  the  stem  of  the  flower 
and  the  bloom  fell  below.  O'Dare  went  and  picked  it  up, 
and  stuck  it  in  his  button-hole.  "  I  drop  you  some  bullets 
here  upon  the  sand.  I  would  put  them  in  your  lap  but 
for  your  mastiff.  Keep  your  pistol  dry,  oil  it  now  and 
then,  and  you  will  have  no  need  to  reload  more  than  once 
a  year.  Do  not,  in  your  innocence,  throw  it  away  as  the 
gift  of  a  fool.  Neither  must  you  consider  this  the  freak  of 
an  eccentric  man,  for  I  am  in  no  sense  eccentric,  and  have 
a  matter-of-fact,  steady,  guiding  reason  for  all  my  delib 
erate  acts.  At  another  time  I  may  inform  you  why  I  took 
the  liberty  of  accosting  you,  why  I  give  you  that  pistol, 
and,  as  a  sequence,  why  I  urge  and  counsel  you  to  ac 
quaint  yourself,  without  delay,  with  its  use,  and  fail  not 
to  carry  it,  if  you  must  needs  go  alone." 

O'Dare  bowed  and  walked  away,  leaving  Cora  to 
wonder  at  him.  "  Granted  that  he  is  mad,"  thought  the 
young  girl, — "  he  is  at  least  methodical,  and  points  his 
words  with  rationality."  From  looking  at  the  pistol  Cora 
began  to  handle  it.  She  condemned  its  uses,  but  possessed 
no  prejudices  against  either  its  material  or  its  mechanism. 
As  a  concrete  Ingenuity  she  regarded  it  as  of  almost 
matchless  power,  able,  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  to  drive 
out  the  spirit  from  the  body,  and  send  it  into  the  presence 
of  God  himself.  She  had  never  shot  a  pistol,  but  she  knew 
how  it  was  loaded,  and  how  it  was  discharged.  O'Dare's 


OR    CORA    GLEN  COS.  143 

words  were  not  without  effect  upon  her,  and  in  recalling 
the  fate  of  Lucrece,  she  thought  of  the  man — Jonas 
Aiken — who  but  yesterday  had  stopped  before  her  with 
his  evil  face  and  repulsive  address.  But  the  more  she 
.became  reconciled  to  the  dangerous  gem,  the  more  was 
she  at  a  loss  to  conjecture  the  inquisitive  interest  of  the 
geologist  in  herself,  and  his  singular  mode  of  manifesting 
it.  The  fact  of  its  singularity,  however,  determined  her 
to  carry  the  pistol  in  her  dress-pocket  when  she  went 
alone.  She  already  began  to  feel  an  accession  of  power 
with  the  weapon  in  her  hand,  and  at  all  events  it  would 
serve  to  frighten  if  not  to  kill. 

Had  Cora's  intimate  friends  (supposing  that  she  had 
such)  urged  her  to  carry  a  pistol,  she  would  either  have 
considered  them  crazed,  or  disregarded  them  as  jesting; 
and  a  moment  before  O'Dare  had  tossed  the  pistol  into  her 
lap  she  would  have  thought  of  carrying  a  cannon  as  soon. 

Cora  was  now  sixteen  years  of  age,  and  had  acquired 
a  complete  common-school  education.  She  had  studied 
well,  having  had  nothing  to  consume  her  time  or  distract 
her  attention  except  the  heartache,  from  which  she  fled 
to  her  books,  and  to  the  shore,  which  was  a  ceaseless  study 
to  her,  as  untiring  as  the  waves  themselves. 

Oswald  Huron,  who  was  satisfied  with  his  daughter's 
progress,  determined  to  take  Cora  from  the  Creswood 
school,  have  her  devote  one  year  to  history,  and  then  send 
her  to  some  finishing  institution,  where  she  would  be 
enabled  to  see  a  little  more  of  the  world,  and  the  kind  of 
people  it  contained,  than  would  ever  be  seen  at  Creswood. 
This  determination  was  formed  upon  the  suggestions  of 
Mr.  Hope,  who  was  probably  the  only  person  living  to 
whose  advice  Oswald  Huron  would  so  much  as  listen,  or 
to  whom  he  would  concede  a  single  grain  of  disinterested 
wisdom. 

Cora  was  naturally  elegant  and  lady-like.  Her  "  style" 
was  pure  and  unaffected,  and  therefore  correct  and  beau 
tiful  What  she  needed  was  something  beyond  home 
views,  and  home  experience,  and  it  was  now  essential  to 
her  expansion  that  she  should,  for  awhile,  be  cut  loose 
from  the  withes  which  bound  her.  She  was  preparing 
herself  to  enter  creditably  whatever  institution  she  might 


144  TEKEL, 

be  assigned  to,  and  looked  forward  with  some  relief  to  the 
time  when  she  should  escape,  for  a  season,  the  gloom  of 
Cliff  Hall.  But  there  was  no  brightness  in  her  future. 
To  her  the  future  seemed  as  a  long  vista,  hedged  and 
overhung  with  evergreen  weepers,  through  which  peered 
the  sad  faces  of  the  desolate,  and  each  face  bearing  a 
mournful  resemblance  to  her  own. 

Captain  Gale  had  steadily  watched  for  an  opportunity 
of  restoring  Cora  to  her  true  parents.  But  he  had  never 
found  the  time  at  which  he  was  satisfied  that  the  evidence 
he  possessed  would  be  accepted  as  conclusive,  or  that  it 
would  not  be  combated  by  Oswald  Huron  with  all  the 
vigor  of  animosity  and  hate.  He  had  altogether  lost  the 
polarity  of  Maria  Guthrie,  the  most  important  witness, 
and  did  not  know  if  she  were  alive  or  dead.  Her  affidavit, 
mere  ex-parte  testimony,  .would,  in  the  handwriting  of 
Lawyer  May,  breed  suspicion.  Amy  Turnbolt's  word, 
written  or  spoken,  considering  the  relations  existing  be 
tween  Captain  Gale  and  Oswald  Huron,  would  be  subject 
to  attack  before  any  court  of  justice  or  equity.  Toward 
Captain  Gale,  Oswald  Huron  had  never  relaxed  a  muscle 
or  relented  a  thought,  and  the  mariner  wished,  above  all 
things,  to  guard  against  raising  the  question  of  Cora's 
parentage,  and  leaving  it  in  a  state  of  painful  and  madden 
ing  non-solution.  Better  let  her  remain  as  she  was  yet  a 
little  while  longer  than  submit  her  to  be  torn  to  pieces  by 
a  controversy  which  he  was  satisfied  would  be  as  bitter  as 
gall  on  the  one  hand,  and,  on  the  other,  as  wakeful  as 
want, — the  want  of  the  true  parents  for  the  child  of  their 
blood.  And  so  Captain  Gale  had  put  off  the  day  of  resto 
ration  from  month  to  month,  and  from  year  to  year.  What 
was  to  strengthen  his  arm  and  equip  him  with  greater 
power,  he  was  unable  to  see,  either  near  at  hand  or  in  the 
distance ;  but  confiding  in  the  justice  of  Heaven,  and  the 
inscrutable  ways  of  Providence,  he  bowed  submission  to 
the  fiat  of  circumstances,  and  compelled  himself  to  be 
partly  contented  with  endeavoring  in  his  prayers  to  hasten 
up  Providence  a  little,  and  precipitate  the  sequel  of  its 
unaccountable  and  mysterious  ways. 

It  is  time  that  the  reader  should  be  informed  that  Gar 
land  Hope,  the  young  minister,  was  in  love.  The  object 


OR    CORA    GLENCOE.  145 

of  his  fondest  thoughts  was  a  mild,  celestial-looking  girl, 
a  young  blonde  of  Creswood.  Her  name  was  Rebecca 
Ruthven.  She  was  tender-eyed  and  affectionate,  and  re 
turned  the  young  minister's  fondness  with  a  discreet  and 
gentle  love  which  thoroughly  satisfied  him,  for  the  present. 
Her  father  was  dead.  She  lived  with  her  mother  and  her 
grandfather,  and  attended  the  school  of  which  Garland 
was  the  head.  He  took  especial  pains  in  educating  her, 
and  she  repaid  his  prospective  care  by  assiduous  study, 
modest  ambition,  and  anon  a  tender  glance.  She  was  an 
amiable,  lovely,  and  precious  girl,  and  Garland  contem 
plated  her  expanding  beauty  and  intelligence  with  a  deep 
and  happy  calm,  for  he  felt  secure  in  her  love,  and  there 
was  neither  rival  nor  bugbear  to  fright  him  in  his  dreams. 
His  father  commended  his  choice,  except  that  he  would 
rather  have  seen  Garland  and  Cora  Glencoe  together,  but 
did  not  interfere  to  make  it  so ;  and  Rebecca's  mother 
and  grandfather  regarded  him  as  a  well-girt  Christian 
knight,  under  whose  shield  their  daughter  could  safely 
shelter  when  they  were  laid  in  the  grave.  But  Rebecca 
was  quite  young,  and  would  not  be  ready  for  a  year  or 
more  to  submit  herself  to  the  manipulations  of  Matrimony. 
Garland,  however,  was  content  to  wait,  having  no  fear, 
and  desiring  firmly  to  establish  himself,  and  count  his 
temporal  success  as  a  stone  already  hewn  and  set,  and  not 
as  one  to  be  searched  for  in  the  quarry. 

The  Hope  family  had  exercised  a  very  salutary  in 
fluence  upon  the  community  of  Creswood.  By  their 
teaching  and  example  they  had  given  direction  to  the 
random  thoughts  and  aspirations  of  the  dwellers,  and 
had  bound  many  of  them  as  a  sheaf,  ripe  and  fitted  for 
the  garner. 

But  there  were  a  few  strongholds  which  resisted  all 
their  Christian  lances.  Cliff  Hall  was  one  of  them. 
Oswald  Huron  was  regarded  both  by  Garland  and  his 
father  as  beyond  the  influence  of  anything  short  of  the 
death-bed,  and,  as  likely  as  not,  proof  and  stiff-necked 
even  there  would  he  be  found. 

Then  there  was  Gale  Island,  which  was  but  half  re 
deemed.  It  had  long  been  the  heavenly  ambition  of  old 

13 


]  46  TEKEL, 

Mr.  Hope,  who  had  delegated  its  consummation  to  his 
son,  to  bring  Captain  Gale  into  the  church  as  an  avowed 
and  communing  member.  There  was  no  reason  to  com 
plain  of  Captain  Gale's  pecuniary  fellowship,  for  he  gave 
freely,  and,  in  addition,  volunteered  sensible  and  timely 
suggestions  in  regard  to  the  temporalities  of  the  church  ;  but 
he  neither  broke  bread  nor  drank  wine  at  the  table  of  the 
devout,  and  the  reverend  father  and  son,  and  many  mem 
bers  of  the  church,  felt  an  uncommon  interest  in  the  sure 
and  prescribed  salvation  of  a  soul  so  worthy  the  strivings 
of  the  people  of  God. 

But  the  resolute  captain  had  peculiar  notions  of  his 
own ;  and  so  long  as  it  was  required  of  him  to  conform 
his  views  to  the  general,  specific,  and  promulgated  views 
of  the  church,  he  could  not  in  conscience  take  the  vows. 

For  instance,  he  did  not  believe  that  the  human  race 
is  the  issue  of  one  man  Adam  and  one  woman  Eve,  and 
he  stoutly  maintained  that  Genesis  does  not  teach  any 
such  doctrine. 

Again,  he  did  not  believe  in  the  universality  of  a 
world-submerging  flood ;  or,  granted  that  it  was  all-sub 
merging,  there  must  have  been  a  subsequent  creation,  he 
contended. 

"Before  the  mast,"  said  he,  "when  I  was  a  youth,  I 
sailed  the  world  over.  I  have  seen  too  much  and  many, 
to  believe  that  all  things  now  existing  came  out  of  Noah's 
Ark  in  embryo.  In  the  Sandwich  Islands  I  saw  creation. 
In  the  South  Pacific  I  saw  creation.  In  other  oceans  I 
saw  creation.  How  did  it  get  there  ?  With  a  good 
ship,  compass,  and  crew,  and  knowing  that  these  islands 
existed,  it  was  no  summer  day's  sail  to  reach  them. 
Human  beings,  the  savages  in  occupancy,  don't  know 
how  they  got  there  themselves.  It  is  possible  that  their 
ancestors  might  have  made  the  voyage  in  some  way  now 
obsolete,  and,  in  fact,  absolutely  unknown.  But  did  they 
carry  with  them  animals,  beasts,  birds,  reptiles,  insects, 
worms,  and  fresh-water  fish  ?  If  not,  it  is  not  an  unrea 
sonable  question  to  ask  '  how — did — these — things — get 
there  ?'  The  simplest  answer  in  my  mind  is,  '  they  were 
created  on  the  spot.'  Just  as  easy  to  create  in  one  place 
as  another.  Some  say  that  continental  and  marine  con- 


OR   CORA    OLENCOE.  14f 

vulsions  scattered  the  land  and  water  every  way.  If 
these  islands  were  separated  from  continents  and  sent  to 
sea,  when  did  the  convulsion  occur?  According  to  the 
universal,  all-submerging  theory,  they  could  not  have 
been  sent  to  sea  before  the  Deluge,  or  they  too  would 
have  been  deluged.  Neither  is  it  likely  that  they  could 
have  been  convulsed  away  since  the  Deluge,  for  such  a 
period  would  have  been  more  memorable  than  the  Deluge 
itself,  and  would  have  been  the  theme  of  Tradition  down 
to  the  age  of  letters  and  statistics.  Moreover,  every  con 
tinent  from  which  an  island  was  torn  must  hav'e  been 
restocked  from  Noah's  Ark,  or  the  fragments  would  have 
gone  to  sea  destitute  of  creation  ;  and  such  a  convulsion, 
even  at  this  teeming  and  prolific  day,  might  tear  many  an 
island  from  many  an  uninhabited  coast.  I  divide  this 
question  into  three. 

"  One. — The  Deluge  was  not  universal. 

"  Two. — If  it  was,  there  was  a  subsequent  creation. 

"Three. — Is  it  not  feasible  that  Deluge  was  accom 
panied  by  Convulsion,  or  Convulsion  by  Deluge,  one 
causing  the  other,  and  scattering  the  hills  and  the  waves 
abroad,  and  leaving  the  face  of  the  earth  about  as  it  now 
is,  with  here  and  there  its  nuclei  of  life,  each  probably, 
like  the  man  who  ran  away  from  the  battle,  reporting 
itself  the  sole  survivor  ? 

"  But  I  leave  the  solution  (as  one  not  essential  to  salva 
tion)  to  the  time  when  Eternity  shall  enlighten  us  all.  To 
the  magnificent  old  Prophets  I  strike  my  flag,  always. 
Coming  still  further  down,  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount  is 
ample  to  save  the  world ;  and  on  an  endeavor  to  imbibe 
its  spirit  I  trust  to  get  to  heaven,  church  dogmas  to  the 
contrary  notwithstanding.  If,"  said  Captain  Gale  to  Mr. 
Hope,  "you  will  cut  your  Temple  from  the  solid  Rock,  I 
will  sit  with  you  therein.  Let  God  be  the  Creator,  Man 
the  Sinner,  Jesus  Christ  the  Mediator,  and  His  plain 
teachings  the  Guide,  and  I  am  with  you.  Put  down  all 
that  is  not  plain,  as  distorted  light,  coming  to  us  through 
a  defective  medium,  the  medium  of  human  scribes  and 
linguists." 

The  stanch  captain  continued  to  rest  so  calmly  and 
meekly  upon  his  simple  faith,  that  the  Hopes  deemed  it 


148  TEKEL, 

safer  to  leave  him  where  he  was,  than,  by  attempting  to 
force  him  forward,  drive  him  backward. 

Hector  O'Dare,  having  got  his  man  regularly  to  work, 
left  Creswood.  Jonas  Aiken  pecked  away  at  the  packed 
drift  in  the  crevasse,  day  after  day,  and  to  all  questions 
replied  that  he  was  digging  for  gold. 

"  Have  you  found  any  ?" 

"Yes." 

"How  much?" 

"Two  dollars  a  day  and  tools  furnished." 

Finally  he  was  left  alone  to  his  hired  endeavor  to  crack 
open  the  cliffs  of  the  Larboard  Strand. 

We  next  find  O'Dare  in  Cassel  Rapid's  room  at  the 
Boyd  mansion.  On  a  table  he  had  spread  a  sheet  of 
canvas,  over  which  he  and  Cassel  were  bending. 

"  Do  you  recognize  it  ?"  asked  O'Dare. 

"  Yes.  Here  is  Gale  Island ;  here  is  the  path  leading 
down  to  the  beach ;  here  lies  the  strand  against  the  rock 
walls ;  and  here  is  Cliff  Hall.  Where  is  your  excavation  ?" 

"Here,"  said  O'Dare,  putting  his  finger  upon  a  cross  in 
red  ink.  "It  is  about  fifty  yards  from  where  the  path 
comes  down  to  the  beach." 

"Just  as  I  would  have  it,"  said  Cassel. 

"  You  will  find  him  armed  to  the  teeth,"  said  O'Dare. 

"Just  as  I  would  have  it  again.  And  now,  Mr.  O'Dare, 
I  have  to  thank  you  for  a  favor.  The  fact  that  I  pay  you 
for  it  takes  nothing  from  it  in  my  esteem." 

"Mr.  Rapid,"  said  O'Dare,  professionally,  "I  have 
simply  obeyed  instructions  without  asking  questions.  It 
is  not  for  me  legally  to  know  your  purposes.  But,  judging 
you  by  myself,  and  by  every  other  man,  I  can  anticipate 
what  probably  will  soon  be  a  startling  sequence  in  that 
quiet  neighborhood.  If  you  come  out  of  it  alive,  or  what 
ever  may  transpire,  I  am,  you  will  remember,  not  to  be 
mixed  up  with  it  in  any  shape." 

"You  are,  and  shall  be,  free  from  all  contagion  which 
this  matter  may  breed.  But  how  much  do  I  owe  you?" 

O'Dare  named  the  sum. 

"  Permit  me  to  double  it  ?"  suggested  young  Rapid.  "  I 
thought  it  would  be  at  least  five  times  as  much." 

"I  never  alter  my  figures,"  replied  O'Dare.     "I  am 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  149 

charging  you  only  for  my  time,  not  for  my  conscience. 
The  one  can  always  be  bought,  the  other  is  not  for  sale. 
But  what  I  will  not  sell  I  sometimes  give  away.  I  have 
done  so  in  your  case.  My  conscience,  speed,  and  wishes 
go  with  you,  free  of  cost.  As  I  said,  he  is  armed  to  the 
teeth.  He  cannot  fail  to  see  your  approach,  and  have' 
ample  time  to  surrender  or  fight.  You  never  asked  me  to 
arrange  for  an  assassination,  nor  would  I  have  done  it. 
Everything  is  calculated  for  a  compulsory  but  open  battle, 
as  you  desired.  That  is  and  was  as  much  as  Hector 
O'Dare  could  undertake.  But  I  do  not  hesitate  to  empha 
size  what  you  already  know,  that  he  deserves  no  such 
consideration  as  time,  or  opportunity,  from  you." 

"  Here  is  a  check  for  the  sum  I  owe  you,"  said  Cassel, 
not  replying  to  O'Dare's  unmistakable  and  friendly  mean 
ing,  but  observing,  "  I  don't  intend  to  commit  you  by  say 
ing  a  word. " 

"You  are  doing  worse,"  said  the  detective,  smiling. 
"  You  are  checking  me  down  in  black  and  white.  Never 
mind  the  check,  but  pay  me  in  notes  or  coin  when  con 
venient.  I  want  no  banker's  books  to  record  me  for  future 
reference. " 

When  the  detective  took  leave,  he  held  out  his  hand 
to  Cassel,  saying, — 

"  Young  man,  I  like  you.  When  you  return,  come  see 
me.  Good-by ;  which,  being  interpreted,  means  '  God  be 
with  you.'" 

Cassel  shook  hands  with  O'Dare,  and  the  latter  went 
his  way. 

Taking  from  a  trunk  a  fine,  solid,  steel  dagger,  young 
Rapid  went  to  the  banking-house  of  Sarazzin  &  Sarazzin. 
Calling  for  Jepthah,  the  junior  partner,  he  retired  with 
him  into  a  consultation-room.  In  ten  minutes  he  came 
out,  and  returned  to  the  Boyd  mansion.  Going  through 
the  house  and  the  garden,  he  entered  the  stable,  which 
was  at  the  rear,  and  fronted  on  an  alley.  He  went  into  a 
stall  and  met  the  salutation  of  his  favorite  horse  with  an 
affectionate  patting  on  the  neck  and  head.  Manipulating 
the  noble  animal  himself,  he  equipped  him  for  a  ride.  In 
a  few  moments  he  was  on  the  street,  "a  handsome  Devil 
riding  a  pale  horse  with  black  mane  and  black  feet" 

13* 


150  TEKEL; 

In  a  couple  of  hours  he  returned  to  the  stable,  and 
having  groomed  his  steed,  was  going  to  the  house  through 
the  garden  when  Liuda  met  him,  and  with  enthusiasm 
said, — 

"Oh,  brother,  my  flowers  are  so  beautiful,  and  such 
willing  bloomers.  Please  come  and  look  at  them." 

They  went  to  the  borders,  and  Cassel  saw  that  his 
selections  had  proven  good,  and  that  the  plants  had  re 
sponded  gratefully  to  the  care  which  they  had  received. 

Touching  a  delicate  pink  rose,  a  monthly,  which  was 
just  opening,  pure  and  fresh,  he  said, — 

"Little  sister,  this  is  the  color  of  your  cheeks." 

Linda  blushed  with  modesty  and  pleasure. 

"  Oho,"  laughed  Cassel,  "  now  it  is  this  one,"  and  he 
touched  another  rose  of  crimson  hue.  Then,  turning  to 
her  affectionately,  he  continued, — "  There  is  but  one  thing 
more  beautiful  and  tempting  than  the  rose's  blush,  and 
that  is,  the  rosy  spray  upon  the  modest  cheek.  But  look 
you  here  :  see  this  one,  half  opened.  Down  in  its  heart  is 
a  crimson  glow.  But  down  there  also  is  the  worm.  It  is 
thus  I  treat  all  such,"  and  with  that  terrible  frown  upon 
his  face  he  plucked  out  the  worm  and  set  his  heel  upon  it. 
"  Let  no  spoiler  get  down  into  your  heart,  or  it  may 
wither  as  that  flower  would  have  withered,  and  I  shall 
have  to  set  my  heel  upon  him  as  upon  that  canker-worm." 

Cassel  proceeded  to  give  Linda  a  complete  and  affec 
tionate  lecture.  At  its  close  he  asked, — 

"Now,  can  you  tell  me  why  I  am  lecturing  you?" 

"Because  you  know  I  need  it,"  said  Linda. 

"  That  is  not  the  immediate  and  prime  reason.  It  is 
because  I  am  going  away." 

Linda  turned  pale  with  instant  agony  and  dismay. 

"  Now  you  are  a  Lily,"  said  Cassel.  "  You  have  lost 
all  your  color." 

She  burst  into  tears,  and  springing  to  his  breast,  clung 
to  him  with  the  tenacity  of  want  and  affection. 

"  Ah,"  said  she,  while  her  young  form  shivered,  "I  shall 
die.  Please  do  notleave  me,  oh,  my  brother !  Please  do 
not  go  away  and  leave  me  to  perish  of  desolation !  If  you 
need  money,  I  have  it.  If  you  need  a  home,  it  is  here. 
If  there  is  any  one  you  love,  bring  her  here  and  she  shall 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  151 

be  my  sister.  But  do  not  leave  me,  oh,  my  brother,  please, 
please  do  not  leave  me !" 

Putting  his  hands  on  each  side  of  her  wet  face  and  lift 
ing  it  up,  Cassel  said, — 

"Your  entreaty  would  melt  a  harder  heart  than  mine. 
Charmed  with  it,  I  did  not  attempt  to  stop  it.  But  do 
not  waste  another  tear.  I  hope  to  be  away  only  for  a  few 
days.  There  is  now  no  place  on  earth  so  welcome  to  me 
as  your  pleasant  lodge,  hallowed  as  it  is  by  my  little 
sister's  love.  But  you  must  learn  to  be  more  self-depend 
ent.  Do  not  look  upon  your  brother  as  so  essential.  I 
have  often  told  you  that  something  might  occur  which 
would  separate  us  forever.  What  then  ? — You  were  kind 
and  tender,  but  possibly  not  discreet,  in  offering  to  frank 
me  through  the  world  with  your  money  and  your  home. 
You  must  know  that  I  could  not  accept  even  your  bounty. 
But  I  do  not  need  money,  for  I  have  more  of  it  than  you 
have.  But  I  do  need  a  home,  and  it  shall  be  with  my  little 
sister,  until  a  stronger  man  comes  and  turns  me  out." 

Linda  looked  into  his  face,  with  tear-drops  on  her 
cheeks  and  lashes,  saying, — 

"  Oh,  how  dearly  you  rejoice  me.  You  have  led  me  out 
of  the  night  into  the  day,  and  if  you  should  leave  me  it 
would  be  night  again.  You  have  taught  me,  and  I  begin 
to  see  what  a  social  heathen  I  have  been.  You  have 
cared  for  me,  and  thought  for  me,  and  spent  your  time 
and  patience  on  me,  when  so  often  I  have  been  a  shame 
to  you  in  my  ignorance,  and  you  so  competent  for  all  the 
world.  Why  is  it,"  asked  Linda,  realizing  yet  more  fully 
the  aptness  of  her  question,  "that  you  are  so  good  to 
me?" 

"  If  I  am  good  to  you,  it  is  because  your  innocence  and 
rarity  delight  me,  and  your  tender  gratitude  repays  me." 
Over  young  Rapid's  face  now  came  an  expression  which 
Linda  had  never  before  seen  there.  Said  he,  "  I  am  far 
more  alone  in  the  world  than  my  little  sister.  I  have  no 
kin  above  the  sod.  No  father  to  guide  and  restrain  me. 
No  mother  to  say  my  prayers  for  me",  and  kiss  my  brow. 
No  brother  to  jostle  my  head  upon  the  pillow.  No — 
no " 

He  stopped.     With  all  his  nerves  of  iron  and  dauntless 


152  TEKEL, 

firm  heart,  young  Rapid  broke  down.  He  turned  away, 
and  with  his  handkerchief  dried  the  water  which  came 
from  the  depth  of  his  heart  to  his  eyes.  Again  turning 
to  Linda,  he  said, — 

"  I  do  not  go  until  to-morrow,  and  then  you  shall  kiss 
me  good-by." 

He  left  her,  and  going  to  his  room,  locked  himself  in. 
Opening  a  trunk,  he  took  out  a  pistol.  It  was  empty. 
He  loaded  it  carefully  and  returned  it  to  its  place.  Next 
he  withdrew  a  long  lasso,  and  balanced  it  in  his  hand. 

"  I  had  better  take  this  also,"  said  he.  "  It  may  prevent 
an  escape." 

Opening  his  door,  he  stepped  into  the  hall  with  the 
lasso  in  his  hand,  and  whistled.  Presently  a  dog  came 
up  the  stairs  at  the  far  end  of  the  hall  and  frisked  up  to 
him.  With  a  stern  chiding  he  stamped  upon  the  floor, 
and  the  dog  scampered  away.  Cassel  wielded  the  lasso 
and  sent  it  like  a  flying  serpent  along  the  hall.  Just  as 
the  dog  reached  the  head  of  the  descending  stairs  the 
looped  coil  of  the  lasso  dropped  upon  his  neck,  and 
brought  him  to  a  frightened  halt.  Cassel  coaxed  him 
into  renewed  confidence,  released  him,  and  returned  to  his 
room,  saying, — 

"  It  is  surer  than  either  powder  or  steel." 

On  the  next  day  Cassel  called  again  upon  Jepthah 
Sarazzin.  The  young  Jew  took  him  again  into  a  consul 
tation-room,  and  handed  him  a  package.  Cassel  unrolled 
the  package  and  took  out  the  dagger  which  he  had  given 
to  Jepthah  the  day  before.  A  slip  of  paper,  which  had 
been  wrapped  about  the  dagger,  he  handed  to  Jepthah, 
and  requested  him  to  read  from  it.  As  Jepthah  read, 
Cassel  compared  the  manuscript  with  the  engraving  on 
the  blade  of  the  weapon. 

"It  is  correct,"  said  Cassel.  "I  hope  you  have  en 
countered  no  risk?" 

"  None,"  said  Jepthah,  smiling.  "  I  defy  even  O'Dare  to 
trace  it  to  me." 

Within  an  hour  Cassel  Rapid  had  kissed  Linda  good- 
by  and  was  on  board  of  a  vessel  bound  for  the  Chesa 
peake.  Among  the  animals  aboard  was  a  pale  stallion 
with  black  mane  and  black  feet. 


OR   CORA    QLENCOE.  153 


CHAPTER  XY. 

CAPTAIN  GALE'S  new  boat  had  been  successfully 
launched,  and  the  bridal  trip  had  been  satisfactory ;  and 
as  the  captain  brought  her  for  the  first  time  under  the 
shore  of  the  island,  his  greeting,  as  he  shouted  to  his 
wife  who  stood  above,  was, — 

"I— tell  you,  Sallie,  she's  a  spanker !" 

It  was  very  early  in  the  morning  when  the  new  White- 
cap  rode  into  the  little  harbor,  and  gracefully  balanced 
upon  the  calm  bosom  of  the  miniature  bay.  The  great 
quality  of  this  little  bay  was,  that,  at  the  point  where 
Captain  Gale  always  moored  his  boat,  the  waters  were 
self-adjusting.  A  storm  from  the  sea  might  rush  the  mad 
waves  against  the  island,  and  against  the  beach  on  either 
hand,  but  as  they  crowded  into  the  mouths  of  the  canals 
which  formed  the-  island  they  passed  around  the  two 
sides  of  an  immense  horseshoe,  and,  their  force  well-nigh 
expended,  met  and  mingled  at  the  toe ;  the  effect  of  which 
was  a  regular,  gentle  heaving  of  the  water  which  sup 
ported  the  vessel  at  anchor.  Hence  the  real  security  of 
an  apparently  unsafe  basin  of  water  not  over  two  hun 
dred  and  fifty  yards  from  an  almost  open  sea. 

Captain  Gale  came  up  to  the  cottage  and  gave  his  wife 
a  kiss  which  smacked  of  vigor  and  enthusiasm. 

"Sallie,"  asked  he,  "have  you  had  breakfast?" 

"  No.  I  was  just  preparing  it  when  one  of  the  boys 
told  me  that  you  were  in  sight." 

"  Very  good.  And  now,  honey,  if  it  will  not  be  too 
much  trouble,  we  will  take  breakfast  on  board  the  White- 
cap.  The  stomachs  of  my  crew  are  as  empty  as  a  charity 
box.  Here,  Johnny,  you  and  Carroll  and  Caddy  come 
and  help  your  mother.  Look  lively  now,  for  after  break 
fast  the  island  takes  a  pleasure  cruise.  I  intend  to  carry 
everything  to  sea  for  half  a  day  at  least,  even  down  to 
the  dog.  How  is  the  cow,  Sallie  ?  I  think  I'll  take  her 
along  too,"  added  the  quaint  captain. 


154  TEKEL 

"  John,  you  are  just  like  a  boy.  You  shall  not  disturb 
my  cow,  for  her  calf  is  but  two  days  old." 

Captain  Gale  laughed,  cut  the  pigeon-wing  a  time  or 
two,  and  went  lightly  down  to  the  Whitecap. 

"  He  hasn't  been  so  frisky  in  ten  years,"  said  Mrs. 
Gale  to  herself.  "  But  he  always  did  delight  in  a  nice 
boat,  and  I  think  he  now  has  what  he  never  had  before, — 
just  the  kind  of  vessel  to  suit  him." 

After  a  hearty  and  merry  breakfast,  Gale  Island,  except 
the  cow  with  her  young  calf,  went  to  sea,  and  did  not  re 
turn  to  its  moorings  until  mid-day. 

Early  in  the  afternoon,  when  the  shade  of  the  cliffs 
began  to  encroach  upon  the  beach  and  make  it  a  pleasant 
promenade,  Captain  Gale  went,  for  a  walk,  upon  the  Lar 
board  Strand.  Coming  to  where  Jonas  Aiken  was  at 
work,  he  said, — 

"  Well,  Aiken,  I'm  glad  to  see  you  so  industrious." 

"  Getting  good  pay,"  was  the  answer,  accompanied  by 
an  unpleasant  laugh. 

Captain  Gale  continued  his  promenade  until  he  came 
upon  Cora  Glencoe,  sitting  in  her  accustomed  seat  upon 
the  Tarpeian  Rock.  Cora  saw  him  coming,  and  knowing 
him  to  be  the  author  of  the  little  book  she  had  read  and 
restored  to  its  owner,  and  recognizing  in  its  authorship 
the  spirit  of  a  just,  good,  charitable,  and  generous-hearted 
man,  she  got  down  from  her  seat  and  went  out  to  meet 
him. 

"  Captain  Gale,"  said  she,  "will  you  not  give  me  your 
hand  ?"  at  the  same  time  offering  hers. 

"Certainly,  my  little  dear,  and  my  heart  also,"  answered 
he,  while  into  his  bold  face  came  a  look  of  compassion  and 
gentleness. 

"  Can  we  not  be  friends  ?"  she  asked  very  sweetly,  and 
almost  beseechingly. 

"  I  have  always  been  your  friend,  you  little  lamb,  and 
ever  expect  to  be." 

Cora  looked  up  into  his  face  with  an  intense  longing. 
How  desolate  must  she  have  been  to  be  seeking  friends 
upon  the  highway  !  But  here  was  a  man  whose  sturdy 
strength  and  integrity  was  a  bulwark  to  himself  and  to 
his  family ;  a  man  of  stout  virtues,  whom  she  had  con- 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  155 

tinually  passed  by,  without  deigning  to  look  at  him. 
Duty,  repentance,  and  appreciation,  the  fruits  of  a  recent 
revelation,  now  taught  her,  in  defiance  of  her  father's 
expressed  will,  to  seek  both  his  forgiveness  and  affection. 
Cora  was  careful  not  to  cross  the  will  of  her  father,  un 
less  that  will  degenerated  into  a  whim  which  crossed  her 
own  fixed  conceptions  of  right  and  duty;  but,  although 
Oswald  Huron  boasted  that  he  ruled  the  land,  upon  occa 
sion,  when  he  roused  the  unconquerable  spirit  of  the 
queen  eagle  in  the  breast  of  Cora  Glencoe,  she  stood 
before  his  fury  as  dauntless  as  death  and  inflexible  as 
marble,  denying  his  right,  and  with  her  calm,  dark,  desper 
ate  eyes,  defying  his  power  and  usurpations.  As  Captain 
Gale  looked  down  into  Cora's  face,  unsullied  except  by 
care  and  sadness,  he  was  almost  tempted  to  take  her  in 
his  arms,  carry  her  to  the  island,  and  fortify  it  against  the 
thunderbolts  of  Cliff  Hall.  Instead  of  this  extreme  meas 
ure,  however,  he  adopted  the  milder  measures  of  his  com 
passion,  which  urged  him  to  partly  anticipate  that  which 
he  hoped  and  trusted  would  be  the  young  girl's  eventual 
history. 

"  Cora,"  asked  he,  "  do  you  believe  me  to  be  a  truthful 
man  ?" 

"I  do,  thoroughly,"  she  answered. 

"  Should  I  assure  you  of  something,  which,  to  your 
mind  and  inexperience,  would  appear  vague,  almost  im 
possible,  and  beyond  comprehension,  would  you  believe 
it?" 

"  If  reason  could  accept  it,  or  conjecture  account  for  it, 
I  should  believe  it.  Otherwise,  I  might  think  you  mis 
taken;  nothing  more." 

"A  very  discreet  reply,"  said  Captain  Gale.  "  What  I 
am  going  to  tell  you  is  in  the  nature  of  a  prophecy. 
What  you  require  to  believe  and  trust  in  it  is,  faith  in  my 
word,  and  faith  in  the  beneficence  of  Providence.  I  know 
that  you  are  not  happy  as  other  children  are  happy  ;  and 
I  know  the  reason  why.  Now  listen  to  me,  and  remember 
what  I  tell  you.  Just  as  well  as  I  know  that  you  are  not 
happy  >  I  also  know  that  it  will  not  be  forever, — before 
you  are  fully  grown,  perhaps,  until  you  will  be  happy,  as 
other  children  are ;  and  I  also  know  the  reason  why.  This 


156  TEKEL, 

is  strange  language  to  you,  and  I  hardly  hope  that  you 
will  establish  your  undoubting  faith  upon  it.  But  I  tell 
you  of  this  as  a  thing  to  come,  that  your  heart  may  be 
encouraged;  that  you  may  cherish  a  hope  through  the 
long  days,  and  dream  of  it  when  you  have  said  your 
prayers,  and  pillowed  your  head  for  the  night.  I  can  give 
you  no  glimpse  of  an  explanation  now,  except  that  there 
are  some  things  which  the  old  do  not  tell  to  the  young 
until  the  young  grow  older.  My  prophecy  is  not  abso 
lutely  certain  of  fulfillment,  but  I  can  assure  you  that  it  is 
as  certain  as  that  a  young  tree  will  grow  if  you  plant  it, 
or  that  human  affairs  in  the  future  will  be  a  copy  of  human 
affairs  in  the  past.  I  am  not  volunteering  an  attempt  to 
cheer  you  for  an  hour,  and  disappoint  you  forever,  but  I 
tell  you  a  truth,  not  yet  accomplished,  but  seeking  and 
nearing  fulfillment,  and  bearing  directly  upon  your  destiny 
and  happiness.  You  cannot  conjecture  what  will  work, 
or  what  will  be,  this  change,  but  you  can  think  of  it,  and 
dream  about  it,  and  hope  for  it,  and  expect  it ;  and  let  your 
heart  be  lighter  and  your  spirit  less  cast  down.  Let  it  be 
your  half-secret,  as  it  now  is  my  whole  secret.  Trust  that 
there  are  sunbeams  across  your  pathway  ahead  of  you, 
and  that  you  will  yet  overtake  them.  Trust  in  God, 
and — the  laws  of  your  country,"  added  the  captain,  not 
altogether  ineptly,  or  from  force  of  habit.  "  That  this 
may  be  the  last  and  freshest  thing  in  your  memory,  I  will 
leave  you  to  think  of  what  I  have  said.  Do  not  read  any 
more  to-day,  but  think  of  all  the  wildest  events  in  history 
or  fiction,  of  all  which  you  may  be  able  to  collect  from 
your  own  brief  experience,  and  if  you  choose,  number  this 
strange  but  coming  thing  of  which  I  tell  you  as  among  the 
wildest,  and,  God  willing,  the  happiest." 

As  Captain  Gale  returned  home,  he  repeated  to  himself, 
referring  to  Cora, — 

"  I  think  I  have  lodged  some  hope  there." 
For  more  than  an  hour  Cora  sat  upon  the  Tarpeian 
Rock,  wondering  and  wildering.  She  had  seen  but  little 
of  the  world,  and  did  not  profess  to  know  of  it  beyond  her 
native  woods,  except  through  elementary  books.  Reflect 
ing,  she  began  to  imagine  that  she  had  altogether  miscon 
ceived  the  world  and  the  ways  of  it,  and  also  the  character 


OR    CORA    GLENCOE.  157 

of  that  wisdom  and  insight  which  are  the  prerogative  of  age 
and  the  fruit  of  experience.  She  had  just  been  informed 
by  Captain  Gale  that  there  were  some  things  which  the 
old  did  not  tell  to  the  young  until  the  young  grew  older. 
!She  had  often  seen  old  women  shake  their  heads  mysteri 
ously  and  hint  to  younger  persons  that  the  time  would 
come  when  they  "would  know."  Even  Mr.  Hope  had  put 
her  off  at  times  by  saying,  "  This  is  something  which  I 
could  not  explain  to  you  now.  When  you  grow  older,  and 
see  more  of  the  world,  then  you  will  comprehend  it." 
What  could  these  inexplicable  things  be  ?  Were  they 
secrets  forbidden  to  be  told  by  mortal  tongues,  but  to  be 
whispered  into  her  soul  at  some  mystic  moment  and  by 
some  mystic  agency?  Again,  was  the  great  world,  away 
from  Creswood,  so  different  actually  from  what  she  had 
conceived  it  to  be  ?  There  were  reasons  for  her  to  think 
so.  The  three  most  traveled  persons  of  whom  she  knew, 
to  wit,  Oswald  Huron,  who  was  a  tourist, — the  Geologist, 
(O'Dare),  who  was  an  explorer, — and  Captain  Gale,  who 
was  a  mariner,  were  each  in  some  sense  incomprehensible  ; 
while,  in  contrast,  the  common  people  of  Creswood  were 
as  fathomable  as  the  primer-book  of  her  childhood.  Was 
her  father  so  strange  in  his  ways  because  that  he  saw  and 
knew  so  far  beyond  her  own  limited  scope  ?  Was  this  the 
reason  why  the  Geologist  appeared  so  eccentric  and  pecu 
liar  ?  Could  she  account  in  this  way  for  Captain  Gale's 
extraordinary  language  ?  Was  it  the  common  property 
of  those  who  knew  the  great  world,  to  comprehend  and 
daily  deal  with  matters  which  to  her  were  enigmas  ? 
Where,  then,  was  that  fountain  of  which  she  could  drink 
and  become  as  one  who  had  been  abroad  in  the  earth  ?  or 
must  she  too  go  abroad  ?  What  was  that  thing  of  which 
Captain  Gale  so  earnestly  spoke,  which  was  to  come  to 
her  as  a  happy  visitation,  and  be  her  own  ?  Must  she 
indeed  expect  it  and  hope  for  it?  Although  her  mind 
caught  at  hope,  it  was  occupied  by  a  vague  dread.  She 
began  to  feel  that  she  was  the  focus  of  some  concentering 
event,  which,  notwithstanding  it  might  bring  Happiness, 
would  be  forerun  by  Terror  ;  the  terror  perhaps  of  a  super 
natural  Revelation.  The  reader  will  remember  that  Cora 
was  a  little  forest-bound  girl,  trained  only  by  her  old 

14 


158  TEKEL, 

pastor,  and  by  him  to  perfect  purity  and  simplicity  of 
reasoning  upon  all  the  eventualities  of  life.  But  her 
imagination  had  carried  her  beyond  her  training-ground, 
and  she  was  lost. 

Wildering  thus,  she  was  just  in  that  mental  condition 
to  see  what  she  soon  did  see,  in  its  most  frightful  aspect. 
She  was  startled  from  her  meditative  mazes  by  a  savage 
cry  which  came  up  the  strand  from  the  direction  of  Gale 
Island.  A  pistol-shot  accompanied  the  cry.  Looking 
down  the  strand  she  was  transfixed.  She  saw  Jonas 
.Aiken,  fleet-footed  as  the  hind,  running  up  the  beach 
toward  her.  Behind  him,  a  rider  upon  a  pale  horse  came 
like  a  rushing  bolt.  Three  times  she  saw  Jonas  Aiken 
fire  his  pistol  as  he  ran,  then  dash  it  to  the  sands  and 
stretch  away  with  all  the  speed  of  Panic.  Onward  came 
the  pale  horse,  whose  rider  poised  in  the  air  that  deadly 
serpent  of  the  Southwestern  Llanos,  the  terrible  lasso ; 
more  deadly  than  the  flying  arrow  or  the  hissing  ball,  and 
surer  than  the  cheetah's  spring  or  the  silent  drop  of  the 
treacherous  boa.  Cora  knew  not  what  it  meant.  She 
knew  not  what  dread  fate  lay  in  the  unerring  hand,  the 
cast,  the  looped  coil,  the  wheeling  of  the  steed,  the  drag 
ging  to  earth,  and  the  ruthless  rasping  of  the  flesh  from  the 
bones,  at  the  whirlwind  feet  of  the  frantic  speeding  horse. 
But  Jonas  Aiken  knew  what  it  meant,  and  he  knew  the 
steel-blue  eye  that  was  upon  him,  and  despairing  of  all 
other  escape  he  ran  into  the  sea  and  plunged  beneath  the 
waves.  The  rider  dropped  his  lasso  on  the  beach,  and 
drawing  a  dagger  whose  sheen  flashed  into  the  eyes  of 
Cora  Glencoe,  he  rushed  his  horse  into  the  shallow  sea 
and  caught  the  diving  fugitive  by  the  throat.  Three  times 
did  Cora  see  that  shining  dagger  lifted  and  driven  to  the 
hilt  in  the  heart  of  Jonas  Aiken,  whose  vile  body  was 
then  spurned  to  the  fishes.  As  the  rider  came  out  of  the 
waves,  without  dismounting  he  plucked  his  lasso  from  the 
ground.  As  he  recovered  himself,  Cora  saw  in  his  corru 
gated  brow  and  glance  of  fire  the  very  frenzy  of  retribu 
tion.  Looking  upon  her  for  the  first  time  where  she  sat 
upon  the  rock,  in  tones  as  stern  as  war  he  commanded, — 
"  Go  home,  you  sparrow !  the  falcons  of  Hell  are 
abroad !" 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  159 

He  then  turned  his  steed  away.  Cora  fainted,  and  lay 
as  one  dead  upon  the  rock.  Down  the  beach  rode  the 
horseman  in  an  easy  walk;  up  the  path  the  pale  horse 
clambered,  and  with  a  wild  neigh  plunged  into  the  forest, 
and  was  seen  no  more. 

Alternately  her  dog  licked  the  face  of  his  fainted  mis 
tress  and  howled  desolation  on  the  air,  until  he  revived 
her.  She  came  out  of  her  swoon  as  from  a  dream  of 
dismay.  She  saw  her  book  resting  where  she  had  placed 
it  upon  a  projecting  ledge  of  the  Tarpeian  Rock.  The 
strand  was  quiet  and  deserted :  so  quiet,  it  seemed  impos 
sible  that  but  a  few  moments  ago  a  swift  and  terrible  action 
could  have  swept  it.  Was  it  indeed  reality  which  she  had 
looked  upon  ?  Or  was  it  but  the  powerful  supervening  of 
Imagination,  with  its  vivid,  rioting,  and  lifelike  images  ? 
She  went  home,  not  certain  that  she  had  seen  anything 
actual,  and  barely  satisfied  that  she  had  seen  Captain 
Gale,  and  listened  to  his  prophecy. 

Captain  Gale,  after  his  conversation  with  Cora,  had 
gone  back  to  the  island  and  seated  himself  upon  the 
cottage  portico,  where  he  loved  so  well  to  sit.  The 
cottage  was  too  close,  he  would  say,  and  the  portico  gave 
him  plenty  of  breathing  room  in  front. 

Caddy  Gale's  morning  voyage  had  made  her  sea-sick. 
She  was  in  bed,  and  her  mother  was  ministering  to  her 
and  laughing  at  her  for  a  landlubber.  Sea-sickness  rarely 
excites  sympathy.  Ridicule  and  banter  appear  to  be  the 
specific  compound  with  which  to  overcome  it  or  cast  it 
out. 

Carroll  May  was  copying  matter  for  a  neighborhood 
attorney,  who,  if  talent  and  legal  acquisition  were  taken 
into  account,  should  have  been  copying  matter  for  Car 
roll. 

Johnny  Gale  was  making  himself  familiar  with  a  new 
and  full  case  of  instruments,  a  concomitant  to  his  adopted 
profession  of  civil  engineering. 

Captain  Gale,  upon  the  portico,  at  intervals  looked  up 
the  Larboard  Strand  to  where  Cora  continued  to  sit  after 
he  had  left  her.  He  would  then  let  his  eyes  rest  for  a 
moment  upon  Jonas  Aiken  where  he  was  at  work.  Then 
out  to  sea  he  would  turn  his  gaze.  Then  down  upon  the 


160  TEKEL, 

Starboard  Strand,  which  was  solitary  and  uninteresting. 
Thus  he  continued  to  employ  himself  for  more  than  an 
hour.  But  it  was  getting  almost  time  for  him  to  have 
another  look  at  the  Whitecap,  away  from  which  he  found 
it  as  uneasy  to  stay  as  a  youth  from  his  love.  Rising, 
and  taking  a  last  glance  up  the  beach,  he  saw  Cora  still 
upon  the  rock,  and  Jonas  Aiken  apparently  hard  at  work. 
He  then  went  down  to  the  Whitecap,  and  taking  a  skiff, 
rowed  twice  around  her,  went  on  board,  looked  about, 
and  in  a  dozen  minutes  was  back  in  his  accustomed  seat 
upon  the  cottage  portico.  The  neigh,  as  of  a  wild  horse, 
came  down  the  wind,  which  was  blowing  steadily  and 
gently  from  north-by-west,  and  recalled  the  captain's  at 
tention  to  the  beach.  Jonas  Aiken  had  disappeared.  The 
howling  of  Cora's  dog  now  caught  the  captain's  ear,  as  it 
came  faintly  down  the  wind.  Cora  was  not  in  sight,  but 
he  could  see  the  suggestive  motions  of  the  dog,  as  he 
howled  and  then  turned  to  lick  the  face  of  his  prostrate 
mistress.  Captain  Gale  was  about  to  get  his  spy-glass 
and  have  a  nearer  view,  but  at  this  moment  he  saw  Cora 
rise  up,  sit  awhile,  descend  from  her  rock,  and  with  her 
dog,  walk  slowly  homeward.  How  he  pitied  her.  Jonas 
Aiken  was  not  yet  in  view,  and  the  captain  again  turned 
his  eyes  seaward.  The  surface  water  was  slowly  moving 
southward  from  the  action  of  the  wind.  The  captain 
lighted  his  pipe.  Tobacco  was  the  beginning  and  the  end 
of  his  dissipation ;  and  he  could  see  no  harm  in  what 
ended  ia  smoke.  For  half  an  hour  or  more  he  continued 
his  leisurely  puffs,  when  his  attention  was  attracted  by  a 
couple  of  sharks,  playing  or  contending  about  an  object 
floating  in  the  deep  water  in  front  of  the  island.  Un 
mooring  a  skiff,  he  rowed  out  to-  investigate  the  floating 
object.  Approaching  it,  he  discovered  that  it  was  a 
human  body.  Coming  upon  it,  he  recognized  the  upturned, 
death-sealed  countenance  of  Jonas  Aiken.  His  nerves 
'tingled  with  horror  and  amazement.  The  sharks,  fearing 
to  be  deprived  of  their  prey,  became  active.  Captain 
Gale  struck  at  them  with  an  oar.  They  drew  the  body 
under,  but  it  rose  again  within  reach  of  Captain  Gale's 
hand.  He  reached  out  for  it.  His  hand  met  the  handle 
of  the  dagger  which  yet  remained  in  the  breast  of  the 


OR   CORA    GLENCOB.  161 

dead  man.  He  grasped  it.  One  of  the  sharks  struck  the 
skiff  with  its  tail,  almost  upsetting  it.  The  heart  of  the 
dead  relaxed  its  hold  upon  the  dagger,  and  it  drew  out  in 
the  hand  of  Captain  Gale,  as,  with  urgent  activity,  he  re 
stored  the  equilibrium  of  his  skiff.  He  threw  the  dagger 
in  the  bottom  of  the  skiff,  and  renewed  his  attack  upon 
the  sharks.  They,  becoming  savage,  furiously  assaulted 
the  dead,  bore  the  body  away,  struck  it  with  bristling 
jaws,  tore  it  to  pieces,  cutting  and  whizzing  through  the 
water  with  ravenous  commotion,  and  finally  disappearing 
in  the  depths,  their  prey  devoured,  or  carried  to  their  still 
home.  A  moment  after  the  body  had  been  carried  below, 
Captain  Gale  saw  something  leap  into  the  air,  and,  falling 
back  again,  rest  upon  the  surface  of  the  water.  Securing 
it,  he  found  it  to  be  a  large  flask.  It  contained  a  few 
drops  of  whisky. 

"  This,"  said  Captain  Gale,  "  is  what  floated  him  so 
well.  Is  it  possible  that  he  has  committed  suicide  ?  If 
so,  how  did  he  get  to  sea  ?  But,  no  ;  such  men  as  he  never 
turn  their  daggers  against  themselves." 

Captain  Gale  went  upon  the  beach  where  Aiken  had 
been  at  work.  He  saw  nothing  there  but  the  tools  of  the 
laborer,  his  dinner-bucket,  and  the  belt  and  holster  of  his 
pistol.  Walking  up  the  strand,  he  discovered  the  pistol 
where  the  fugitive  had  dashed  it.  Upon  its  handle  he  saw, 
roughly  carved,  "  J.  Aiken."  It  was  empty,  and  four  of 
the  tubes  bore  marks  of  having  been  recently  discharged. 
The  two  remaining  tubes  were  probably  discharged  sev 
eral  days  before.  Captain  Gale  saw  no  tracks  of  any  kind 
indicative  of  an  encounter.  Both  pursuer  and  pursued 
had  taken  the  edge  of  the  water  where  the  footing  was 
firm  and  smooth,  and  the  faint  traces  of  their  speed  were 
soon  bolted  out  by  the  busy  waves.  There  were  a  few 
horse  tracks  where  the  horseman  came  upon  and  left  the 
strand,  but  they  were  no  uncommon  signs  there. 

Captain  Gale  now  possessed  all  the  evidences  and  ves 
tiges  which  had  been  left  of  the  tragedy.  Except  Cora 
Glencoe,  no  one  in  Creswood  had  seen  the  pale  horse  come 
or  go. 

Captain  Gale  went  back  to  the  island,  with  dagger, 
pistol,  belt  and  holster,  dinner-bucket,  flask,  and  tools,  and 

H* 


162  TEKEL, 

startled  the  family  by  his  consequent  announcement.  He 
gave  an  account  of  his  contest  with  the  sharks,  their 
victory,  his  going  upon  the  strand,  what  he  found  there, 
and  ended  by  making  a  display  of  the  articles  which  he 
had  brought  with  him. 

Caddy  Gale  forgot  her  sea-sickness  entirely,  and  sprang 
out  of  bed  fully  restored  and  with  eyes  wide  open. 

The  articles  which  Captain  Gale  had  brought  to  the 
cottage  were  scrutinized,  and  turned  over,  and  scrutinized 
again,  until  Carroll  May  discovered  that  the  blade  of  the 
dagger  was  covered  in  an  unusual  manner  with  engrav 
ing.  But  before  he  could  satisfy  his  curiosity,  Captain 
Gale  ordered, — 

"  Here,  boys,  give  me  those  articles.  They  must  be  de 
posited  with  an  officer  of  the  law.  You'll  get  them  scat 
tered  about,  and  some  of  them  lost,  in  all  probability.  I 
must  put  them  away  and  let  your  curiosity  have  time  to 
cool.  Here,  Carroll,  give  me  that  dagger ;  to-morrow  you 
may  decipher  the  engraving." 

The  boys  reluctantly  handed  over  the  articles,  and  Cap 
tain  Gale  locked  them  up. 

"  Caddy,"  said  Carroll,  "  I  thought  you  were  sick  !" 

"  I  was,"  answered  Caddy,  "  but  father  gave  me  such 
a  big  dose  of  fright  that  I  got  well  before  I  knew  it." 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

CARROLL  MAY  had  seen  just  enough  of  the  engraving 
upon  the  dagger  which  Captain  Gale  had  withdrawn  from 
the  breast  of  Jonas  Aiken  to  awaken  an  interest  and  fos 
ter  a  curiosity  to  examine  it  more  completely. 

Captain  Gale,  to  all  appearances,  was  going  to  be  very 
leisurely,  and  very  deliberate,  in  the  ceremony  of  again 
exposing  the  articles  which  he  had  found  to  a  further  and 
more  minute  inspection. 

On  the  following  day,  Carroll,  who  had  been  put  off 
several  times,  and  who  was  growing  impatient,  in  a  tone 


OR   CORA   GLENCOE.  163 

partly  in  earnest  and  partly  in  playful  appeal,  said  to  Mrs. 
Gale,— 

"Ma,  make  Uncle  Gale  show  me  that  dagger." 

"Let  him  see  the  dagger,  husband;  he's  not  going  to 
eat  it,"  said  Mrs.  Gale,  quietly. 

"  Now,  Sallie,"  said  Captain  Gale,  half  in  remonstrance, 
"if  you've  set  sail  in  that  quarter,  I  may  as  well  shift  my 
helm  at  once." 

The  lawlike  captain  regarded  the  articles  as  important 
for  developing  the  mystery  of  Jonas  Aiken's  untimely  end, 
and  he  wished  to  preserve  them  just  as  they  were  found, 
especially  the  dagger,  for  of  the  tragedy  it  was  the  central 
piece.  Around  its  steel  handle  must  have  grasped  the 
fingers  of  the  person  who  had  urged  it  on  its  deadly  mis 
sion.  In  order  to  dispose  of  the  issue,  however,  and  pos 
sibly  with  the  view  of  getting  off  a  little  of  his  quaint 
humor,  he  handed  Carroll  a  key,  saying, — 

"Carroll,  unlock  that  drawer;  take  out  the  dagger;  set 
it  up  and  look  at  it ;  look  at  it  far ;  then  look  at  it  near ; 
then  reverse  it,  and  look  at  it  far  and  near ;  measure  its 
length  ;  measure  its  breadth  ;  measure  its  diameter ;  meas 
ure  its  circumference ;  weigh  it ;  copy  the  engraving ;  then 
give  it  back  to  me  for  evermore." 

When  Captain  Gale  got  through  enumerating,  he  was 
compelled  to  laugh  heartily  along  with  the  others.  He 
had  always  treated  Carroll  as  his  own  son,  reproving  him, 
petting  him,  or  scolding  him,  with  the  manner  and  emo 
tions  of  a  parent. 

Carroll  took  the  key  of  the  drawer,  inserted  it  in  the 
lock,  and  slowly  turned  it,  while  he  looked  at  Captain 
Gale  with  a  roguish  expression  which  reminded  one  of  a 
headstrong,  mischief-loving  child,  whose  especial  delight 
it  was  to  half  tease  its  parents  and  get  a  good-humored 
spanking. 

He  opened  the  drawer  and  picked  up  the  dagger.  With 
pen  and  ink  he  proceeded  to  copy  the  engraving,  it  being 
the  object  of  particular  interest  with  him.  When  he  had 
finished  transcribing,  he  replaced  the  dagger,  locked  the 
drawer,  and  returned  the  key  to  Captain  Gale. 

Carroll  read  over  the  words  which  he  had  written  down 
with  an  intense  interest  which  seemed  to  fascinate  him. 


164  TEKEL, 

"What  is  it?"  asked  Captain  Gale,  observing  the  coun 
tenance  of  the  spell-bound  youth. 

"I  hardly  know,"  replied  Carroll;  "but  it  is  a  most 
extraordinary  inscription." 

"Read  it,"  said  Captain  Gale. 

Below,  we  give  a  fac-simile  of  the  engraving  on  the 
dagger : 

To  the  Lawgiver. 
See    Chapter   118,  Section 
17,     Revised     Statutes 
of  Maryland.  See  kin 
dred  Sections  in  the 
Penal  Codes  of  other 
States  of  the  Union ; 
and  ask  of  your 
mother,  wife,  or 
sister,  why,  a- 
gainst  these 
Statutes,  this 
Dagger 
dares  to 
write 

T 
e 
k 
e 
I 

"What  can  it  mean?"  asked  Captain  Gale,  reaching  for 
the  copy.  "  Let's  have  a  look  at  it,  Carroll." 

"  Ma,  shall  I  let  him  have  it, — or  make  him  wait  until 
to-morrow  morning  ?"  laughed  the  youth. 

"  Give  it  to  him,  Carroll,"  said  Mrs.  Gale,  smiling. 
"  You  know  he  relented  just  now  in  your  favor." 

"  Relented !"  exclaimed  the  husband.  "  I  uncondi 
tionally  backed  out — as  soon  as  you  enlisted  against  me." 

"  And  now  you  are  as  anxious  to  see  what  it  is  as  Car 
roll  was,"  retorted  Mrs.  Gale,  merrily. 

"  Then  it's  the  first  time  that  my  curiosity  ever  got 
ahead  of  yours — aha!  ha!  ha!  h-a!  h-a!"  and  Captain 
Gale  roared  as  he  had  not  done  for  six  months,  his  wife 
and  children  bearing  him  good  company. 


OR   CORA    OLENCOE.  165 

While  Captain  Gale  read  over  the  copy,  Carroll  went 
to  his  own  little  room  and  brought  out  the  Revised 
Statutes  of  Maryland. 

"Uncle," said  he,  "please  call  off  the  chapter  and  sec 
tion  mentioned  in  the  engraving;  there  must  be  some 
special  design  in  the  reference." 

"  Chapter  one  hundred  and  eighteen,  section  seventeen," 
responded  Captain  Gale. 

Carroll  turned  to  the  chapter  and  section,  and  read 
rapidly  to  himself.  A  light  broke  upon  his  mind  and 
gave  direction  to  his  conjectures.  In  a  tone  of  some  ex 
citement,  he  said, — 

"  It  does  mean  something,  uncle.     Here,  read  this." 

Captain  Gale  took  the  law  book  and  read  the  section  re 
ferred  to.  He  looked  up  into  Corroll's  face  and  exclaimed, — 

"Aha  !  Here  is  matter  for  speculation.  Carroll,  in  my 
blue  chest,  in  the  cabin  of  the  Whitecap,  I  have  the  laws 
of  Virginia,  Maryland,  Delaware,  New  Jersey,  and  New 
York.  I  always  keep  the  laws  of  whatever  coast  I  trade 
with.  Bring  them  here.  Here  is  the  key.  The  chest  is 
on  the  left — but  never  mind — that  will  not  throw  any 
additional  light  on  this  particular  case,  and  I  can  compare 
the  books  at  another  time." 

"What's  all  this  lawing  and  fuss  about?"  asked  Mrs. 
Gale,  who  had  been  quietly  looking  on. 

"  Belay  your  impatience,  Sallie,"  said  the  old  mariner, 
with  wicked  humor.  "  I  don't  intend  that  you  shall  get 
a  rope's  turn  of  this  until  it  becomes  dead  stale.  There's 
law  for  you — lex  talionis,"  and  the  captain  savagely 
shook  his  mane  at  his  wife. 

"  This  tragedy  appears  to  me  to  be  a  farce,"  said  Mrs. 
Gale.  "  I  begin  to  suspect  that  it's  all  a  hoax." 

"  No  hoax  to  Jonas  Aiken,  I  can  tell  you,"  replied  the 
captain,  "  or  to  the  man  who  killed  him." 

"  Might  it  not  have  been  a  woman  ?"  suggested  Mrs. 
Gale,  who  sometimes,  out  of  mischief,  asserted  the  new 
born  rights  and  capabilities  of  her  own  sex. 

"  Since  you  mention  it,  Sallie,  it  might  well  have  been 
a  woman;  better,  probably,  than  a  man." 

"  John,  is  the  man  really  dead  ?  or  is  this  but  a  ghastly 
marine  joke  which  you  are  attempting  ?" 


166  TEKEL, 

"Dead  without  a  doubt,  and  eaten  up  by  the  sharks 
under  my  own  eye." 

"Did  the  Black  Oath  have  anything  to  do  with  it? 
You  remember  his  father  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Gale  insinua 
tingly. 

"  Sallie,  don't  talk  of  things  which  you  never  went  to 
sea  and  saw,"  said  the  captain,  a  little  vexed. 

"  And  couldn't  see,  if  I  should  go  to  sea,"  replied  Mrs. 
Gale,  following  up  the  mariner's  style  of  expressing  him 
self.  "  The  fact  is,  then,  that  the  dagger  killed  him, — is 
that  it?" 

"  It  came  out  of  his  breast,"  said  Captain  Gale.  "  I  had 
no  time  to  act  as  coroner,  but  I  judge  that  the  dagger,  in 
the  hands  of  some  person  unknown,  caused  his  death. 
But  what  is  this  last  word,  Carroll,  in  your  copy  ?  You 
have  blotted  it  almost  out." 

Carroll  took  the  paper  and  looked  at  it. 

"Uncle,  it  is  so  blotted  I  shall  have  to  refer  to  the 
dagger." 

Again  taking  out  the  weapon,  Carroll  looked  at  the 
blade,  and,  from  the  point  of  it,  read, — 

"Tekel." 

"  Tekel  ?"  echoed  Captain  Gale,  somewhat  at  fault. 

"  Tekel  ?"  said  Johnny,  reflectively. 

"  Tekel  ?"  followed  Caddy,  at  a  loss. 

"  Tekel  ?"  repeated  Carroll.  "  I  have  both  heard  and 
seen  the  word — often." 

"  So  have  I,"  said  Captain  Gale. 

"  So  have  I,"  echoed  Johnny. 

"  So  have  I,"  followed  Caddy. 

Mrs.  Gale,  who  had  held  her  peace,  conscious  that  they 
were  puzzled,  said, — 

"  Well,  I  reckon  it's  my  time  to  sail  in,  seeing  that  you 
are  all  aground  ;"  and  notwithstanding  the  subject  was  a 
grave  one,  she  could  not  but  laugh  at  their  blank  faces 
until  the  tears  ran  down  her  cheeks. 

"What  is  it,  Sallie  ?"  asked  Captain  G^ale. 

"Now  you  belay  your  impatience,"  said  Mrs.  Gale,  re 
torting  upon  the  captain. 

"  Pshaw,  Sallie  !  I  know  what  it  means,  if  I  could  only 
think  of  it." 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  16T 

"Yes, — but  that's  the  trouble, — you  can't  think  of  it. 
I  thought  you  told  me  you  read  your  Bible." 

"  Come,  honey,"  said  the  husband,  with  beseeching  im 
patience,  "if  you  know  the  meaning  of  it,  let's  have  it.  It 
is  doubtless  the  key  to  the  whole  matter." 

"  Of  course  it  is,"  replied  Mrs.  Gale,  who  was  mistress 
of  the  predicament;  "but  before  I  furnish  you  the  key,  I 
must  know  what  it  is  that  you  wish  to  unlock." 

"  Well,  that's  a  fair  compromise,"  admitted  the  captain, 
and  he  pointed  her  to  the  section  of  law  which  he  and 
Carroll  had  been  reading. 

"  Is  this  referred  to  on  the  dagger  ?"  she  asked. 

"Yes;  and  the  kin  law  of  all  the  other  States.  This  is 
Maryland  law." 

"  The  meaning,  then,  is  as  plain  as  daylight.  This  man 
Aiken  has  been  a  demon"  said  Mrs.  Gale. 

"  Ay,  no  doubt  of  it ;  but  what  does  the  word  Tekel 
refer  to  ?" 

Pointing  to  a  wall  of  the  room,  Mrs.  Gale,  as  if  reading 
from  the  plaster,  said, — 

"  Mene — Mene — Tekel — Upharsin." 

It  was  now  almost  as  familiar  to  the  auditory  as  the 
Lord's  Prayer. 

"But  why  the  single  word,  Tekel?"  asked  Captain 
Gale. 

"  Refer  to  the  feast  of  Belshazzar  and  you  will  learn," 
answered  Mrs.  Gale. 

"  Caddy,"  said  the  captain,  "  bring  me  the  Bible.  Wife, 
where  will  I  find  Belshazzar  ?" 

"Look  in  Matthew,"  answered  Mrs.  Gale,  with  secret 
mischief. 

"  Sallie,  don't  make  me  out  more  of  a  heathen  than  Bel 
shazzar  himself.  I  know  it's  not  in  the  New  Testament." 

"  Look,  then,  in  Daniel,"  said  Mrs.  Gale,  laughing  mer 
rily  at  being  foiled  in  the  perpetration  of  so  glaring  a  joke. 

Captain  Gale  turned  to  Daniel,  and  finally  to  Chapter  Y. 
"  Belshazzar's  Impious  Feast."  • 

Yerse  1.  "  Belshazzar  the  king  made  a  great  feast  to  a 
thousand  of  his  lords,  and  drank  wine  before  the  thousand." 

Yerse  5.  "  In  the  same  hour  came  forth  fingers  of  a 
man's  hand,  and  wrote  over  against  the  candlestick  upon 


168  TEKEL, 

the  plaster  of  the  wall  of  the  king's  palace :  and  the  king 
saw  the  part -of  the  hand  that  wrote." 

Yerse  8.  "  Then  came  in  all  the  king's  wise  men :  but 
they  could  not  read  the  writing,  nor  make  known  to  the 
king  the  interpretation  thereof." 

Verse  13.  "  Then  was  Daniel  brought  in  before  the 
king."  ******* 

Verse  17.  "  Then  Daniel  answered  and  said  before  the 
kins; "  ******* 

Verse  25.  "And  this  is  the  writing  that  was  written, 
MENE,  MENE,  TEKEL,  UPHARSIN." 

Verse  26.  "This  is  the  interpretation  of  the  thing: 
MENE;  God  hath  numbered  thy  kingdom  and  finished  it." 

Verse  27.  "TEKEL;  Thou  art  weighed  in  the  balances, 
and  art  found  wanting." 

"  Now  you  see  what  points  the  dagger,"  said  Mrs.  Gale. 

"  Carroll,"  said  the  captain,  laying  aside  the  Bible,  "  go 
down  to  the  Whitecap  and  bring  me  those  law  books  I 
mentioned.  This  is  a  subject  to  which  I  have  heretofore 
given  very  little  attention." 

When  Carroll  brought  the  books,  Captain  Gale  notified 
the  young  people  that  their  presence  just  then  was  not 
needed.  Turning  to  particular  sections  of  law  in  each 
State  code,  he  glanced  through  them  and  pointed  them 
out  to  his  wife,  observing, — 

"  These  are  the  kindred  laws  referred  to  by  the  engrav 
ing  on  the  dagger." 

Mrs.  Gale  read. 

"  And  most  pusillanimous,  unmanly  laws  they  are,"  said 
she,  her  soft  brown,  motherly  eyes  flashing.  "  This  is  the 
interpretation  of  the  thing,  John  Gale.  The  dagger  chal 
lenges  the  sufficiency  of  these  laws — and  so  do  /.  Jonas 
Aiken  has  polluted  some  helpless,  innocent  girl,  you  may 
depend.  He  has  suffered  death  for  it ;  and  I,  for  one,  say, 
may  the  hand  live  that  drove  the  dagger." 

"  Wife !  wife  !"  remonstrated  Captain  Gale. 

"I  say  it^  cried  Mrs.  Gale  with  fiery  vim ;  "and  I'll 
say  it  on  my  dying  bed, — may  the  hand  live  that  drove 
the  dagger.  Now,  Captain  Gale,  granted  that  we  inter 
pret  this  engraving  correctly,  and  suppose  that  it  had  been 
Caddy, — what  would  you  have  done  ?" 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  169 

"Wife,  do  not  ask  me  such  a  question." 

"  I  know  what  you  would  have  done,  you  lion.  And  I 
say  shame  upon  any  man  who,  for  the  honor  and  purity 
of  his  house,  would  not  drive  daggers  and  give  the  Spoiler 
to  the  fowls  of  the  air  and  the  fishes  of  the  sea." 

"  But  why  be  so  excited,  Sallie  ?" 

"  Excited !  Hasn't  this  villain  been  within  reach  of 
Caddy  and  Cora  Glencoe,  ever  since  the  day  be  set  his 
foot  in  Creswood  ?  That  very  blade  may  have  saved  us 
from  infinite  shame  and  heart-rending, —  and  you  from 
doing  you  know  not  what,  unless  what  has  been  done." 

"But  how  know  you,"  asked  Captain  Gale,  "that  the 
inscription  on  the  dagger  has  any  reference  to  Jonas 
Aiken  ?» 

"  It  proves  itself,"  answered  the  shrewd  and  consecutive 
little  woman.  "  What  murderer  leaves  his  knife  behind  to 
track  him  up  and  bring  him  to  the  gallows  ?  No.  That 
dagger  was  driven  by  some  gallant  arm,  and  left  as  a 
testimonial  that  at  least  one  dauntless  soul  dared  to  retri- 
bute  the  purity  of  his  house,  and  deal  death  for  deathless 
pollution.  What  if  it  is  against  the  laws  ?  What  are  such 
laws  as  these  to  the  ruined  girl,  the  parents,  the  kindred, 
the  friends  ?  They  are  but  a  farce, — and  an  invitation 
instead  of  a  terror  to  such  men  as  Jonas  Aiken." 

Captain  Gale  subsided.  To  rid  himself  of  all  responsi 
bility,  he  would  hand  over  to  the  proper  authorities  the 
articles  he  had  collected,  tell  what  he  knew,  and  there  let 
the  matter  rest. 

The  death  of  Jonas  Aiken  created  no  sorrow  in  any 
breast.  It  was  regarded  as  a  neighborhood  wonder,  but 
not  as  a  neighborhood  calamity.  Cora  Glencoe  was  the 
only  witness  of  the  deed  which  hurled  his  soul  to  judg 
ment  ;  and  for  many  months  she  did  not  tell  to  any  one 
what  she  had  seen.  Her  father  was  a  man-slayer.  Him 
she  could  not  approach  upon  a  subject  of  blood ;  for  his 
present  was  overclouded  and  fitful  enough  without  rous 
ing  him  to  memories  of  the  past.  For  a  long  time  Cora 
did  not  go  upon  the  strand,  but  remained  at  home,  and 
saw  no  one  but  Oswald  Huron  and  the  servants.  Before 
she  again  appeared  where  she  might  communicate  with 
the  little  world  about  her,  the  event  of  Aiken's  death  bad 

15 


170  TEKEL, 

become  stale.  Imagining,  if  at  so  late  a  day  she  should 
come  forward  with  an  account  of  the  tragedy,  that  she 
would  not  be  credited,  and  that  it  would  do  no  good,  she 
held  her  peace.  She  had  been  so  dismayed  at  the  time, 
that  she  could  at  best  have  given  but  an  imperfect  idea  of 
what  had  occurred.  She  could  not  have  described  either 
the  horse  or  horseman,  though  each  was  a  marked  figure ; 
and  could  only  have  testified  that  she  had  seen  one  man 
kill  another.  She  shrank  from  being  dragged  before  a 
goggle-eyed  public,  simply  to  tell  (what  everybody  knew) 
that  a  man  had  been  killed,  and  that  somebody  had  killed 
him. 

Such  were  the  views  of  artless  Cora  Glencoe.  An  in 
quest,  or  a  prosecuting  attorney,  might  have  held  differ 
ently. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

PROBABLY  every  coast  is  more  or  less  infected  with  salt 
water  notions  and  superstitions.  The  reader  may  have 
discovered  that  Creswood  was  not  in  this  respect  an 
exception. 

It  is  not  astonishing,  then, — when  it  became  generally 
known  that  Captain  Gale,  a  man  of  undoubted  veracity, 
had  seen  Jonas  Aiken  alive  and  at  work,  and,  half  an 
hour  after,  had  seen  him  unaccountably  dead  and  at  sea, 
with  a  strange  dagger  in  his  breast, — that  a  cloud  of 
superstition  swept  through  Creswood,  and  rested  here 
and  there  in  many  minds. 

The  elders  remembered  Jonas  Aiken's  father,  and  how, 
when  the  land  would  not  punish  him  for  his  wickedness, 
the  sea  drew  him  out  upon  its  bosom,  took  his  life,  and 
heaved  his  corpse  upon  the  shore. 

The  wonder-weavers,  therefore,  found  it  easy  to  con 
nect  the  fate  of  the  son  with  that  of  the  father, — doubt 
ing  not  that  the  sou  had  inherited,  with  its  curse,  the 
mantle  of  the  father, — doubting  not  that  he  had  himself 
been  guilty  of  distinct  crimes, — and  doubting  not  that  the 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  171 

mysterious  genius  of  the  ocean,  exasperated  at  the  tardi 
ness  of  the  shore,  had  caught  the  doomed  man  from  the 
very  beach,  struck  him,  and  left,  in  the  life-seat  of  the 
wretch,  the  unmistakable  arraignment  of  the  laws  of  Terra 
Firma,  "  Thou  art  weighed  in  the  balances,  and  art  found 
wanting." 

The  wonder-weavers,  in  their  own  social  sphere,  were 
masters  of  the  mystery,  and  would  probably  continue  so 
to  be, — until  the  mystery  should  be  dissolved. 

Amy  Turnbolt  presented  herself  before  Captain  Gale, 
who  was  sitting  in  his  accustomed  seat  upon  the  cottage 
portico.  The  captain  was  impatient  to  get  to  sea,  but 
was  detained  as  a  witness  in  a  legal  investigation  of  the 
singular  fate  of  Jonas  Aiken,  which  investigation  was 
appointed  to  commence  on  the  following  day,  before  a 
primary  tribunal  of  the  neighborhood.  There  had  been 
no  inquest,  and,  as  events  were  so  rare  in  Creswood,  it 
was  determined  by  those  who  hungered  and  thirsted  after 
sensations,  to  have  a  public  powwow  in  honor  of  this 
doubly  interesting  incident  of  death  aud  mystery.  And 
it  was  determined  that  the  powwow  should  be  a  legal 
powwow,  so  that  all  possible  elements  should  be  enlisted 
to  make  the  occasion  one  to  be  remembered  after  it  had 
been  enjoyed.  The  investigation  done  with,  and  knots  of 
wise  heads  having  unknotted  the  knotty  question,  the 
snowy  sails  of  the  spanking  Whitecap  would  court  the 
breeze  without  more  delay. 

"  Uncle  John,"  said  Amy,  as  she  appeared  before  Cap 
tain  Gale,  "  I've  got  in  a  good  humor." 

Amy,  in  the  past,  had  married  a  man  by  the  name  of 
Bowden,  against  the  remonstrances  of  her  uncle.  Bowden, 
who  proved  to  be  a  harmless,  good-for-nothing  sort  of  a 
fellow,  had  djed  of  cholera.  Amy  had  again  been  re 
ceived  and  cared  for  at  the  island ;  but  as  she  was  subject 
to  fits  of  cattishness,  she  had  occasionally  gone  off  in  ill 
humor,  vowing  never  to  return  to  the  island  again.  Her 
uncle  had  habitually  told  her  that  when  she  got  in  a  good 
humor  she  could  come  back.  Her  experience  down  among 
the  huts,  as  landlady,  had  pretty  well  cured  her  of  her 
resolutions  to  paddle  her  own  canoe  ;  and  she  had  returned 
to  the  island  in  a  more  humble  and  accommodating  state  of 


172  TEKEL, 

mind  than  on  any  previous  occasion.  Captain  Gale  wel 
comed  her,  and  merely  observed, — 

"  I  am  glad  of  it,  Amy.  Go  in  and  tell  Sallie,  so  that 
she  can  assign  you  a  room  as  of  old." 

"But,  uncle,  I  have  something  to  say  to  you  first." 

"  Very  well.     Let's  hear  it." 

"  It's  about  the  Jonas  Aiken  matter.  You  know  he's 
been  boarding  with  me,  until  I  turned  him  off.  Several 
other  men  have  been  boarding  with  me  also,  and  they  are 
down  at  the  huts  now.  Last  night  I  heard  two  of  them 
in  conversation.  I  listened,  and  found  out  that  they  were 
talking  about  you  and  Jonas  Aiken.  They  agreed  to  get 
up  a  report  that  I  had  turned  Jonas  Aiken  out,  and  he 
had  threatened  to  drive  me  out  of  the  huts,  and  that  you 
had  on  that  account  killed  him.  They  are  to  take  some 
rascal  of  a  lawyer  in  with  them,  throw  suspicion  on  you, 
and  force  you  to  give  them  hush-money,  or  force  you,  in 
order  to  clear  your  own  skirts,  to  direct  suspicion  some 
where  or  anywhere  that  will  give  them  a  chance  of  squeez 
ing  out  hush-money, — they  professing  to  act  as  Aiken's 
friends.  They  said  that  most  any  man  would  pay  a  hun 
dred  dollars  or  so,  if  suspected,  to  have  the  matter  dropped ; 
and  that  one  such  payment  would  give  them  a  hold  to 
which  they  would  hang,  as  long  as  it  could  be  made  to 
pay.  I  am  not  certain  which  of  the  men  it  was,  or  what 
lawyer  they  were  going  to  take  in  co-hoot  with  them ; 
but  you  can  look  out  for  something  of  the  sort." 

Captain  Gale  smiled  with  a  disd^nful  confidence.  He, 
who  for  more  than  a  quarter  oPUpentury  had  been  the 
umpire  of  order  and  legitimacy,  iind  the  appeal  of  his 
neighbors, — to  be  blackmailed  by  some  villainous  attorney 
and  a  couple  of  unsubstantial  conspirators !  He  merely 
observed, — 

"  You  are  right,  Amy,  to  tell  me  of  this,  but  don't  you 
be  uneasy  on  my  account.  You  need  not  say  anything 
about  it  to  Sallie  until  this  judicial  inquiry  is  over,  which 
will  be  by  to-morrow  evening,  for  she  might  conjure  up  a 
bugaboo.  I  do  not  know  of  any  lawyer  in  this  neighbor 
hood  who  would  undertake  to  conduct  such  an  enterprise, 
unless  it  should  be  that  lank  pettifogger  who  rides  the  lank 
nag  known  throughout  the  county  as  '  Famine.'  But  if 


OR    CORA    OLENCOE.  173 

he  can  make  something  out  of  nothing,  he  has  improved 
amazingly  since  I  last  heard  of  him." 

Captain  Gale,  in  his  secret  thoughts,  gave  Oswald 
Huron  credit  for  conceiving  the  plan,  and  organizing  the 
meditated  attack  upon  him.  Whether  the  captain  was 
right  or  wrong  we  are  unable  to  say,  but  we  do  know  that 
he  felt  firm,  and  even  saucy,  in  his  integrity. 

On  the  following  day  Captain  Gale  was  prompt  to  re 
spond  to  the  summons  of  Justice.  Carroll  May  went  with 
him,  and  before  the  investigation  was  fairly  begun,  the 
affair  assumed  somewhat  the  courtly  aspect  of  plaintiff 
and  defendant;  the  rogues  of  whom  Amy  Turnbolt  had 
spoken  being  plaintiffs, — and  Captain  Gale  being  defend 
ant,  and  at  the  same  time,  witness. 

The  captain  told  what  he  knew, — neither  more,  neither 
less.  A  number  of  questions  were  then  asked  and  clearly 
answered,  during  which  the  rider  of  the  nag  "  Famine" 
was  conspicuous  as  an  interested  party.  He  appeared  in 
behalf  of  the  dead  and  the  friends  of  the  dead,  and  suc 
ceeded  in  creating  an  impression  that  there  was  something 
to  be  developed,  and  that  he  was  the  person  capable  and 
engaged  to  develop  it.  With  much  ado  about  preliminaries 
and  precedents,  he  instituted  a  cross-examination,  in  which 
it  was  his  intention  to  get  Captain  Gale  upon  his  hook, 
and  in  which,  as  the  reader  will  discover  from  a  few  of  his 
questions  and  the  replies  elicited,  he  displayed  extraordi 
nary  research,  tact,  and  shrewdness. 

It  is  not  on  account  of  any  intrinsic  merit  in  the  follow 
ing  little  comedy,  hoviJfcir,  that  we  are  induced  to  include 
it ;  but  for  the  purpose  W  introducing,  without  recommen 
dation,  the  rider  of  "Famine," — otherwise  Mr.  Attorney, — 
who  will  appear  again  before  this  history  is  written  to  the 
end. 

Assuming  that  impressive  and  penetrating  air  which  a 
certain  school  of  lack-brain  attorneys  habitually  affect  with 
the  view  of  befooling  fools  and  imposing  upon  wiser  men 
than  themselves,  Mr.  Attorney  very  pointedly  asked  of 
Captain  Gale, — 

"You  say  you  drew  that  dagger  from  Jonas  Aiken's 
breast  ?" 

"  Yes." 

15* 


174  TEKEL, 

"Maybe  you  can  inform  the  court  who  stuck  it  there  ?" 

"No." 

"  You  say  he  was  floating  on  the  sea,  half  an  hour  after 
the  murder  ?" 

"  I  said  nothing  about  murder." 

"  Do  you  deny  that  it  was  a  murder?" 

"No." 

"  Very  well.  Now  what  made  him  float  so  soon  after 
being  killed  ?" 

"  You  can  answer  your  own  question.  I  have  already 
given  my  theory  about  the  loss  of  blood,  the  large  empty 
flask,  etc." 

"  You  say  he  had  his  coat  on  ?" 

"Yes." 

"  Now  is  it  customary,  in  the  heat  of  summer,  for  men 
at  hard  work  to  wear  their  coats  ?" 

"  It  is  a  prudent  habit  with  laborers,  while  resting,  to 
throw  on  their  coats  if  they  are  perspiring  freely  and  the 
wind  is  blowing." 

It  was  evident  that  Mr.  Attorney's  object  was  to  entrap 
Captain  Gale  into  an  inconsistency,  and  throw  doubt  and 
suspicion  upon  his  testimony,  and  upon  himself. 

"  You  say  there  were  a  few  horse  tracks  upon  the 
beach  ?" 

"Yes." 

"Are  horse  tracks  common,  or  are  they  singular,  to  the 
Larboard  Strand  ?" 

"  They  are  a  common  mark  there  when  wind  or  water 
does  not  wear  or  wash  them  out.'^. 

"  Is  the  strand  a  thoroughfare,  a  drive,  a  resort  for 
animals,  or  what  ?" 

"It  is  a  watering-place." 

"Aha!  Animals  drink  saltwater,  do  they?"  demanded 
the  attorney,  brightening. 

"  Not  unless  backed  by  an  attorney." 

The  court  was  compelled  to  cry  "  order,  order." 

"  How  then  is  it  a  watering-place,  hey  ?"  persisted  Mr. 
Attorney,  who  was  not  willing  to  let  go  what  he  con 
ceived  to  be  a  "  holt." 

"It  is  not  uncommon,"  said  Captain  Gale,  "for  well- 
kept  horses  to  be  brought  there  and  washed  in  the  sea. 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  115 

Hence,  for  your  sole  comprehension,  the  tracks.  A  little 
salt  wash,  and  a  little  rubbing  of  the  hair  backwards,  would 
doubtless  help  that  nag  Famine  of  yours,  Mr.  Attorney." 

A  roar  of  laughter  again  elicited  the  cry  of  "order, 
order,"  and  Mr.  Attorney,  thus  reinforced,  with  a  very 
piercing  and  mysterious  eye,  asked, — 

"  Captain  Gale,  are  you  the  sole  witness  in  this  affair?" 

"So  far  as  I  know." 

"  Aha  1     Have  you  any  suspicions  of  the  guilty  party  ?" 

"None." 

"  You  suspect  no  one  ?" 

"  No  one,  or  no  dozen." 

"  No  person  or  persons  whatever  ?"  persisted  the  at 
torney 

"No  man,  woman,  or  child;  no  men,  women,  or  chil 
dren." 

"  Have  you  heard  any  suspicions  expressed?" 

"No." 

"  Have  you  heard  or  do  you  know  of  anything  which 
might  lead  to  a  suspicion  ?" 

Captain  Gale  was  well  aware  that  he  was  answering 
unauthorized  questions,  but  he  nevertheless  replied, — 

"  I  never  attempt  to  hunt  for  a  needle  in  a  hay-stack, 
unless  I  first  know  that  the  needle  is  in  the  hay-stack. 
But  as  you  urge  me  to  express  an  opinion,  and  direct  sus 
picion  to  some  quarter,  I  am  free  to  say  that  I  know  of  no 
one  more  likely  to  have  done  the  deed  than  yourself." 

Mr.  Attorney  bristled  up. 

"  I  submit  to  the  court  that  the  witness,  in  his  reply, 
makes  a  clean  shift." 

"  And  I,"  said  Captain  Gale,  "  with  due  respect  to  the 
court,  submit  that  the  attorney  needs  a  clean  shirt." 

Another  roar  of  laughter  was  pronounced  out  of  order. 

"  I  challenge  the  action  of  witness  in  evading  questions," 
said  the  attorney  in  great  wrath. 

"  I  challenge  the  right  of  attorney  to  ask  such  ques 
tions,"  replied  Captain  Gale,  smiling  at  the  court. 

"  I  demand  the  right  of  a  licensed  attorney  I" 

"  I  demand  an  exhibition  of  Mr.  Attorney's  license," 
was  the  reply. 

Mr.  Attorney  could  not  produce  his  license. 


176  TEKEL, 

"  And  I  adjourn  court,"  said  the  justice,  who  was  satis 
fied  that  the  time  for  adjournment  had  arrived. 

In  the  character  of  witness,  Captain  Gale  may  have 
appeared  flippant  to  the  reader ;  but  by  those  who  knew 
the  rider  of  Famine,  and  who  were  present  during  the  ju 
dicial  proceedings,  the  captain,  in  both  word  and  manner, 
was  considered  appropriate,  rosy,  and  quaintly  gay. 

The  captain  himself  came  out  of  the  court-room  laugh 
ing  heartily,  the  court  arming  him  and  laughing  also. 

"  Hoo-ray  for  Captain  Gale  !"  cried  a  number  of  appre 
ciative  urchins  who  had  gathered  about  him. 

"  Hush, — you  little  spankers  !"  good-humoredly  remon 
strated  the  captain. 

As  they  walked  along,  the  mariner  said  to  the  justice, — 

"  Squire,  I  risked  the  clemency  of  the  court  in  order  to 
give  that  rascally  attorney  his  deserts ;  for  he  is  a  rascal, 
be  assured.  I  could  not  forbear  touching  him  on  his  nag 
Famine.  She  is  known  the  county  over,  and  is  a  stand 
ing,  or  rather  a  staggering,  accusation  against  him.  Then 
his  shirt,"  continued  the  captain  merrily,  "  was  an  insult 
to  the  purity  of  the  bench." 

"I  own,"  said  the  justice,  "that  I  was  somewhat 
surprised  at  you,  for  in  all  matters  pertaining  to  law,  you 
have  the  reputation  of  being  as  sedate  and  methodical  as 
law  itself.  In  fact,  Gale,"  continued  the  justice  jocosely, 
"  I  have  been  told  that  your  very  dreams  are  lawful.  I 
would  have  restricted  Mr.  Attorney  to  legitimate  grounds, 
but  seeing  that  you  were  getting  the  best  of  it,  and  the 
bench  being  amused  withal,  I  gave  unusual  latitude  to 
the  proceedings.  But  I  want  a  little  advice.  You  are 
the  only  .person  who  knows,  originally,  anything  about 
this  matter.  What  would  you  counsel  me  to  do  ?" 

"  What  can  you  do  ?  The  man  has  been  killed,  and 
the  sharks  have  held  an  inquest.  Beyond  this  there  is 
not  a  spark  of  light.  The  dagger,  in  my  opinion,  ex 
plains  why  the  killing  was  done.  But  you  are  not  called 
upon  to  do  this  or  that,  or  to  say  yea  or  nay.  The  case 
dismisses  itself  for  lack  of  evidence ;  leaving  no  ground 
for  the  commitment  or  indictment  of  anybody." 

Nothing  more  was  attempted  by  the  authorities  to  clear 
up  the  mystery  of  Jonas  Aiken's  death,  or  to  discover 


OR    CORA    GLENCOE.  177 

who  slew  him.  The  intelligent  portion  of  the  community 
doubted  not  that  the  dagger  told  a  true  tale ;  a  tale  which 
we  hear  almost  every  day, — that  of  some  defenseless  girl 
shrieking  in  the  polluting  grasp  of  the  Spoiler,  and  of  an 
outraged  kinsman,  friend,  or  commune,  dealing  out  merited 
and  thrice  merited  death.  The  insufficient  law  which 
commissions  justice  to  use  the  sword's  flat,  merely,  where 
its  double  edge  should  cut  and  cleave,  is  met  daily  from 
some  quarter  of  this  land  by  the  stern  TeJcel  of  the  single- 
handed  Retributor,  or  by  the  righteous  fury  of  a  mob,  and 
few  there  be  who  are  so  mean  and  spiritless  as  not  to  say 
amen. 

It  would  seem,  with  some  exceptions,  when  men  be 
come  legislators,  that  eagles  are  turned  vultures.  That 
the  manly  and  chivalrous  sentiments  of  the  free  and 
knightly  citizen  are  suspended  in  the  legislator.  That 
roaring  like  lions  when  stalking  for  votes,  means  acting 
like  jackals  when  assembled  around  the  public  carcass. 
What  man  could,  without  shame  and  confusion,  look  his 
wife,  or  his  daughter,  or  his  love,  in  the  face  and  say, 
"  I  have  voted  for  a  law  which  sets  a  price  upon  your 
purity  and  chastity  ?  I  have  made  the  robbery  of  your 
purity  equivalent  to  the  theft  of  a  horse,  and  the  violation 
of  your  chastity  equivalent  to  the  violation  of  a  senseless 
revenue  stamp !" 

Captain  Gale  again  wound  his  bugle,  and  waked  up  the 
hills  of  Creswood  with  echoing  melody. 

The  blast  was  promptly  followed  by  the  appearance  of 
his  crew,  and  the  Whitecap  was  soon  at  sea. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

GRAHAM  HURON,  son  of  Neville  Huron,  and  brother  of 
Cora  Glencoe,  came  down  from  Philadelphia,  on  a  visit  to 
Cliff  Hall.  He  had  never  seen  his  Uncle  Oswald  since 
the  time  when  a  little  corpse  was  brought  up  from  Cres 
wood  and  lodged  in  the  family  vaults  at  Philadelphia  ;  and 
he  had  not  seen  his  sister  Cora  since  she  was  an  infant. 


178  TEKEL, 

Neville  Huron,  who  did  not  wish  to  permit  a  strict  and 
permanent  alienation  to  become  established  between  his 
own  and  his  brother's  family,  had  suggested  to  Graham 
that  he  might  spend  a  few  days  or  weeks  very  pleasantly 
at  Creswood  with  his  cousin  Cora,  who  was  now  almost 
a  grown  young  lady.  The  youth,  who  was  by  no  means 
unappreciative  of  the  girls,  and  who  would  as  soon  toy 
with  a  pretty  cousin  as  a  pretty  anybody,  was  pleased 
with  the  suggestion  of  his  father,  and  without  more  delay 
ihan  is  necessary  to  outfit  a  young  gentleman  of  the  city 
and  of  the  "period,"  was  on  his  way  to  Creswood. 

Graham  was  a  fine-looking  fellow,  rather  tall,  with  a 
rich  head,  olive  cheek,  dark  eyes,  pleasant  manners,  and 
finished  collegiate  education.  He  had  no  idea  of  the  coun 
try  cousin  whom  he  was  going  to  visit,  and  when  he  ar 
rived  at  the  Hall  he  was  delightfully  surprised  by  the  lovely 
girl  who  warmly  received  him  and  welcomed  him  to  Cres 
wood. 

Cora  was  very  glad  to  see  Graham,  and  would  have 
been  glad  to  see  any  one  of  his  promise,  male  or  female, 
who  stood  in  the  relation  of  cousin. 

The  sepulchral  atmosphere  of  Cliff  Hall  needed  some 
such  visitation  to  change  it  into  one  of  breathing,  open, 
sunny  air,  and  give  the  place  an  appearance  of  life. 

Osw.-ild  Huron  was  perfectly  satisfied  with  the  aspect, 
tone,  and  manner  of  his  nephew,  and,  from  the  beginning, 
left  Cora  free  to  entertain  him  as  she  liked. 

It  required  but  a  short  time  for  an  attachment  to  spring 
up  between  Graham  and  Cora,  and  they  were  together 
almost  continually. 

Oswald  Huron  regarded  the  fondness  of  the  young  peo 
ple  with  complacency  and  growing  interest,  and  finally 
bethought  him  that  his  daughter  could  not  do  better  than 
to  secure,  in  her  wealthy  and  handsome  cousin,  a  future 
husband.  He  encouraged  their  ripening  intimacy,  and 
even  hinted  to  Cora  the  eligibility  and  aptitude  of  such 
an  arrangement.  She  answered  him  with  a  blush,  and  a 
quiet  look,  which  he  interpreted  as  willingness  and  appro 
bation. 

The  young  couple  were  out  every  day  upon  the  strand, 
in  the  forest,  on  the  cliffs,  and  occasionally  on  a  visit, 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  179 

until  the  gossipers  of  Creswood  openly  connected  their 
names  as  those  of  affianced  lovers. 

Gossipers  are  not  always  at  fault,  and  in  this  instance 
they  were  certainly  half  correct  if  not  wholly  so;  for 
Graham  Huron  soon  learned  to  love  Cora  Glencoe  as  -he 
would  not  have  done  had  he  known  her  to  be  his  sister. 

But  with  all  his  tact,  and  his  experience  with  wary, 
fencing,  and  alluring  belles,  it  was  impossible  for  him  to 
determine  whether  or  not  his  affection  was  met  by  Cora's 
secret  heart  as  he  would  have  desired.  Infinitely  tender 
and  attentive  as  his  cousin,  she  seemed  hedged  by  an 
impenetrable  thicket  whenever  he  would  advance  upon 
her  as  a  lover  on  his  lassie.  She  did  not  discourage  him 
as  one  who  was  unwilling  to  cope  with  him,  but  as  one 
who  was  altogether  innocent  of  his  designs,  and  ignorant 
of  the  battle  which  he  vainly  maneuvered  to  precipitate. 
If  impetuously  he  assaulted  her,  with  a  sisterly  air  she 
artlessly  disarmed  him,  appearing  as  unconscious  the 
while  as  if  he  had  invited  her  to  take  a  glass  of  water. 
Graham  was  both  piqued  and  headlong  in  love. 

"  If  she  does  not  love  me,"  he  would  say  to  himself, 
"why  is  she  so  very,  very  tender,  and  so  charmingly  shy  ? 
If  she  does,  why  can  I. not  surprise  her  into  some  betrayal 
of  herself?  What  would  the  young  fellows  say  if  they 
knew  that  I  had  fallen  in  love  with  my  country  cousin, 
and  wasn't  able,  with  every  opportunity,  to  read  her  mind? 
I  could  only  tell  them  that  if  they  would  like  to  be  be 
witched,  to  come  down  to  Cliff  Hall.  It  is  not  Uncle 
Oswald  who  is  the  necromancer,  but  it  is  Cora  who  is  the 
little  witch.  I  am  afraid  to  tell  her  plumply  that  I  love 
her,  for  she  would  either  be  greatly  shocked,  or,  what  is 
worse,  she  would  laugh  at  me." 

There  are  very  few  girls — probably  not  any — situated 
and  surrounded  as  Cora  Glencoe  had  always  been ;  cut  off 
from  the  most  of  those  things  which  attract  the  youthful 
mind,  and  develop  the  young  heart;  and  too  ready  to 
lavish  their  soul's  wealth  upon  the  first  object  which 
promises  at  all ; — there  are  very  few,  we  say,  who  could 
or  would  withstand  the  manly  onsets  and  loverly  assidui 
ties  of  a  sensible,  handsome,  and  elegant  young  person 
such  as  Graham  Huron.  Cora  was  in  a  very  dangerous 


180  TEKEL, 

situation.  Oswald  Huron  had  already  settled  her  destiny 
in  his  own  mind.  He  saw  that  Graham  was  fascinated 
by  Cora,  and  doubted  not  that  he  was  in  love  with  her. 
He  reflected  that  Graham  had  prolonged  his  visit  much 
beyond  his  originally  set  time,  and  that  he  would  proba 
bly  continue  to  prolong  it  until  Cora  had  said  him  yea  or 
nay;  and  the  father  was  determined  that  the  daughter 
should  not  say  nay.  If  necessary,  he  would  make  use  of 
all  those  wearing  and  despotic  influences  which  the  old 
and  crafty  so  well  know  how  to  bear  upon  the  young  and 
guileless,  and  he  did  not  even  question  his  success. 

Cora  was  just  ready  to  form  attachments.  She  was 
aged  and  conditioned  to  hail  with  eager  joy  anything 
which  would  mark  the  beginning  of  a  new  and  happier 
era  in  her  life.  What  then  was  she  likely  to  do, — what 
could  she  do, — against  the  wishes  of  a  willful  father  and 
the  entreaties  of  a  fine  young  lover,  combined  ?  Is  it 
strange  if  she  gave  her  promise  true,  and  surrendered  the 
castle  of  her  heart  ?  Is  it  strange  if  she  was  captivated 
with  the  vision  of  a  new  life,  full  of  romance,  variety,  and 
love,  and  cast  in  some  beautiful  spot,  away  from  the  gloomy 
chambers  of  Cliff  Hall  ?  Away  from  her  father  whom  she 
could  not  love,  and  away  with  her  lover  whom  she  could? 

It  was  a  beautiful  summer  evening  in  the  latter  part  of 
August,  when  Oswald  Huron,  with  a  small  telescope,  was 
sitting  at  an  east  window  of  Cliff  Hall,  watching  for  the 
moon  to  show  itself  above  the  crest  of  a  hill  which  lay 
between  Cliff  Hall  and  that  part  of  the  sea  immediately 
toward  the  east.  The  sun  had  set,  and  dusk  was  gather 
ing  when  the  full  moon  rose  slowly  up  from  behind  the 
hill,  and  became  visible  at  the  window  where  Oswald 
Huron  waited.  From  the  time  that  the  upper  rim  of  the 
orb  appeared  in  view,  until  its  lower  rim  rested  for  an  in 
stant  on  the  hill-top  as  if  the  moon  were  balanced  there, 
he  kept  his  glass  upon  it.  Though  Oswald  Huron,  in  his 
temperament,  was  the  very  opposite  of  celestial,  he  was 
fond  of  looking  upon  celestial  phenomena ;  and  though  he 
had,  during  a  long  series  of  observations,  seen  many  re 
markable  things  in  the  heavens, — as  meteors,  storms, 
auroras,  hazes,  and  eclipses, — he  had  never  yet  observed 
upon  the  face  of  the  moon  so  singular  a  phenomenon  as 


OR   CORA    OLENCOE.  181 

met  his  eye  upon  the  evening  in  question,  at  the  moment 
the  moon  was  clearing  the  hill-top.  In  it,  he  saw  dis 
tinctly  a  man  and  a  woman, — standing,  and  facing  each 
other  ;  and  so  close  together  that  their  persons  almost 
touched.  They  appeared  to  be  gazing  into  each  other's 
faces, — and  conversing,  as  a  slight  gesture  of  the  hand  or 
movement  of  the  person  would  indicate.  They  then  to  all 
appearances  joined  hands,  and  embraced ;  the  head  of  the 
woman  resting  evidently  upon  the  breast  of  the  man ;  in 
which  position  they  slowly  sank  into  the  depths  out  of 
which  the  moon  was  rising. 

Forty  yards  to  the  right  or  left  of  Oswald  Huron's 
position,  an  observer  would  have  seen  nothing  but  the 
ordinary,  mild,  and  unobstructed  visage  of  sweet  Luna 
as  she  rose  up  to  queen  the  Night. 

Did  Oswald  Huron  note  this  strange  phenomenon,  with 
the  view  of  advising  with  some  astronomical  coterie  ?  He 
did  nothing  of  the  kind.  He  smiled  a  smile  of  possible 
triumph,  and  rang  for  a  servant.  When  the  servant  ap 
peared,  he  asked, — 

"  Ase  Mr.  Graham  Huron  and  Miss  Cora  Glencoe  in  the 
house?" 

"No,  sir." 

"  How  do  you  know  they  are  not  ?" 

"  Tea  has  beeu  waiting  for  them,  sir ;  and  I  have  been 
twice  to  their  rooms,  and  to  the  parlor,  to  call  them,  and 
they  are  not  there,  sir." 

"  Where  are  they, — do  you  know  ?" 

"  They  walked  out  upon  the  cliffs  late  this  afternoon. 
I  have  not  seen  them  since." 

"  You  can  go,"  said  Oswald  Huron,  who  stalked  back 
and  forth  in  his  laboratory,  saying  to  himself,  "  I  will 
make  even  Cora  and  Graham  believe  that  I  am  a  necro 
mancer,  by  telling  them  of  what  I  saw  in  the  moon." 
Then,  after  a  little  reflection,  he  continued,  "  No :  I'll  say 
nothing  to  them  about  it.  It  will  be  better  to  let  them 
carry  out  my  wishes  of  their  own  accord,  and  imagine 
that  they  are  having  the  fun  all  to  themselves.  Lovers 
are  said  to  be  very  fond  of  looking  at  the  moon,  ha,  ha! — 
I  wonder  how  these  two  would  feel  if  they  knew  that  I 
had  caught  them  embracing  in  it!"  and  Oswald  Huron 

16 


182  TEKEL, 

laughed  as  if  the  world  were  wagging  to  suit  him.  "  Quite 
a  romantic  astronomical  incident,"  said  he  ;  "  and  if  I  did 
not  know  Cora  to  be  so  stanch  a  little  soul,  it  might  be 
well  for  me  to  look  after  her."  , 

When  Graham  and  Cora  returned  to  the  Hall,  their 
minds  seemed  preoccupied,  and,  while  they  took  tea  in 
the  presence  of  a  dining-room  servant,  very  little  passed 
between  them. 

On  the  next  morning  Graham  was  to  return  to  Phila 
delphia.  He  would  visit  Creswood  again  in  the  autumn. 

That  night  Cora  and  Graham  went  pensively  to  their 
pillows.  Cora  said  to  herself, — 

"  I  wonder  if  Captain  Gale  meant  this,  when  he  assured 
me  that  happiness  and  content  would  come  to  me  ?" 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

CAPTAIN  GALE  made  a  longer  stay  at  sea  than  usual, 
when,  for  the  first  time,  he  put  the  new  Whitecap  into 
trading  waters.  As  a  preliminary  he  had  to  steer  for  a 
wholesale  port  and  lay  in  an  entire  stock  of  fresh  goods. 
Next,  his  vessel  being  larger  and  of  greater  capacity  for 
the  sea  than  any  former  Whitecap,  he  spent  some  time  in 
enlarging  the  boundaries  of  his  traflic. 

Mrs.  Gale  had  often  urged  her  husband  to  quit  the  sea, 
as  he  was  getting  a  little  old  and  weatherbeaten,  and  was 
able  to  retire  upon  a  competency.  But  the  captain  had 
striven  for  a  boat  which  would  fill  the  measure  of  his  am 
bition  ;  and  having  got  it,  he  would  now  strive  for  a  for 
tune  which  would  put  himself  and  his  family  above  the 
ordinary  wants  which  harass  the  human  race.  He  would 
be  independent  in  fortune  as  he  had  ever  been  in  principle; 
and  that  he  might  be  the  more  comfortably  independent 
in  principle,  he  aimed  that  his  fortune  should  be  large 
enough  to  bear,  without  serious  detriment,  those  oft-re 
curring  sacrifices  which  a  strict  adherence  to  principle 


OR    CORA    GLENCOE.  183 

fails  not  to  demand.  This  was  a  worthy  ambition  in  Cap 
tain  Gale,  and  he  had  good  reason  to  hope  that  in  a  very 
few  years  he  would  be  able  to  compass  it. 

When  he  returned  from  his  protracted  cruise,  Jjis  wife, 
who  always  became  anxious  when  the  Whitecap  was  tardy 
to  return,  asked, — 

"  Husband,  where  in  the  world  have  you  been  so  long  ?" 

"It  would  take  half  a  day  to  tell  you,  Sallie,"  answered 
Captain  Gale  in  the  best  of  spirits  ;  "  but  the  boat  does  so 
well  that  I  had  a  good  mind  to  run  her  to  Liverpool.  She 
catches  a  breeze  quicker  than  I  could  kiss  a  pretty 
woman,"  with  which  the  buoyant  captain  took  his  wife  in 
his  arms  and  smacked  his  lips  over  her. 

The  next  morning,  as  the  thriving  mariner  sat  upon  his 
cottage  portico,  smoking  his  breakfast  pipe,  and  calculating 
the  profits  of  his  next  trip,  Amy  Turnbolt  came  to  him 
and  said, — 

"  Uncle  Gale,  I  am  so.  much  relieved  to  have  you  back 
at  the  island  again." 

"Why,  Amy,  there's  nothing  wrong,  is  there?"  asked 
the  captain,  who  imagined  that  his  niece  had  probably, 
during  his  absence,  got  into  one  of  her  tantrums. 

"  Nothing  wrong  here  at  the  island, — but  up  at  Cliff 
Hall  I'm  afraid  there  is,  or  will  be." 

"  At  Cliff  Hall  ?     What's  the  matter  there  ?" 

"  Uncle,  I  have  been  very  near  to  letting  out  the  secret 
which  I  have  kept  so  long.  I've  been  almost  crazy  to  tell 
it,  and  would  have  done  so,  but  Aunt  Sallie  made  me  see 
that  it  was  better  to  wait  until  you  got  back." 

"But  what  is  the  matter?"  asked  Captain  Gale,  anx 
iously,  and  fearing  that  Oswald  Huron  had  been  guilty  of 
some  intemperate  and  outrageous  act  which  had  roused 
Amy's  quick  and  willing  ire  ;  for  Amy  had  always  loved 
Cora  from  the  time  that  she  had  been  an  infant,  smiling 
like  a  little  hooded  cherub  into  nurse's  face  from  nurse's 
lap.  Amy  felt  as  if  she  had  almost  as  good  a  claim  to 
Cora  as  anybody.  In  reply  to  her  uncle's  last  question, 
she  answered, — 

"  Uncle  John," — Amy  sometimes  said  Uncle  John,  and 
at  other  times  Uncle  Gale, — "it  is  this.  Cora  Glencoe's 
brother,  a  very  handsome  young  man,  has  been  down  to 


184  TEKEL, 

Cliff  Hall  on  a  visit,  and  all  Cresvvood  says  that  they  are 
in  love  with  each  other,  and  engaged  to  be  married." 

"  May  the  great  God  prevent !"  exclaimed  Captain  Gale, 
starting  up.  "  Who  would  have  anticipated  such  a  fatal 
entanglement  as  this  ?  But  are  you  certain  there  is  foun 
dation  for  these  rumors  ?" 

"  There  undoubtedly  is,"  answered  Amy.  "  I  have  seen 
them  together  myself, — often, — among  the  cliffs,  and  on 
the  strand,  down  by  the  Tarpeian  Rock.  This  young 
Huron,  her  brother,  is  a  splendid-looking  fellow,  and  no  girl 
that  I  know  of  in  Creswood  would  turn  her  back  to  him." 

"And  Cora,"  said  Captain  Gale,  "is  too  lovely  to  be 
passed  by  ;  and  what  is  more  against  the  purpose,  she  is 
tender-hearted,  lonely,  and  famishing  for  some  worthy 
object  on  which  to  lavish  herself,  and  from  which  to  claim 
a  lavish  return.  Amy,  the  time  has  come"  said  Captain 
Gale ;  "  whether  these  rumors  are  true  or  false,  the  time 
has  come :  for  the  longer  this  thing  is  delayed,  the  worse 
it  gets.  I  have  always  regretted  that  I  did  not  fight  it 
out  at  the  start." 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  ?"  asked  Amy. 

"Have  you  the  courage,"  asked  Captain  Gale,  "to  be 
firm  and  consistent  in  the  fierce  battle  that  will  rage  over 
Cora  as  soon  as  I  throw  up  the  first  signal  light  ?" 

"  If  you  will  stand  by  me,  uncle,  I  will  have  the  courage 
to  do  anything  for  that  little  girl.  I  have  loved  her  and 
bemoaned  her  almost  as  I  would  have  done  my  own  child 
if  it  had  lived,  for  little  Cora  Glencoe  has  had  a  hard, 
hard  life  of  it,  and  I  am  much  to  blame,  and  often  feel  so 
down-hearted  when  I  see  her  darling  sad  eyes." 

"  Of  course  I  will  sustain  you.  And  not  only  that,  but 
Neville  Huron,  who  is  a  different  man  from  his  brother, 
will  sustain  you.  You  will  only  have  to  make  a  confes 
sion,  in  court,  and  tell  exactly  the  truth.  You  may  be 
reprimanded,  or  even  fined  for  misdemeanor,  but  you  need 
not  fear  the  reprimand,  and  I  will  pay  the  fine  myself,  in 
the  event  there  should  be  any.  The  fault  is  mainly  upon 
Maria  Guthrie,  she  being  a  grown  woman,  and  at  that 
time  a  permanent  member  of  the  Cliff  Hall  household,  and 
you  but  a  thoughtless  wild  young  girl,  and  only  tempo 
rarily  engaged  with  the  family.  Moreover,  Maria  Guthrie 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  185 

admits  the  fault  as  chiefly,  if  not  entirely,  her  own,  and 
has  sworn  to  it  in  an  affidavit  which  I  now  have  ready  to 
be  produced  upon  occasion." 

Captain  Gale  designed  to  so  strengthen  Amy  that, 
notwithstanding  her  fear  of  Oswald  Huron,  and  law 
benches,  she  might  boldly  proclaim  the  consistent  truth, 
and  fearlessly  stick  to  it. 

"  I  was  a  superstitious  fool,"  said  Amy,  "  and  it  is  only 
within  the  last  few  years  that  I  have  got  rid  of  my  terror 
about  Oswald  Huron  being  a  necromancer.  I'm  afraid  of 
him  yet, — that  is,  he  might  shoot  me, — but  even  that 
would  not  frighten  me  like  the  old  terror."  And  Amy 
laughed  at  her  girlish  dread  of  the  Necromancer. 

"  Are  the  circumstances  clear  to  your  miud  now  ?  You 
will  remember  it  has  been  fifteen  years  since,"  said  Cap 
tain  Gale. 

"  As  clear  as  on  the  day  after  the  accident." 

"  Let  me  hear  you  repeat  them." 

Amy  did  so,  and  Captain  Gale  continued: 

"  That  is  correct.  And  now,  as  a  strict  preliminary 
caution  and  injunction,  let  me  impress  upon  you  the  im 
portance  of  not  discussing  this  matter  with  any  person. 
When  the  news  runs  like  escaped  lighting  through  Cres- 
wood,  a  thousand  tongues  will  be  busy,  and  people  will 
be  running  to  you  to  know  about  it,  and  one  will  say 
that  you  stated  so,  and  another  one  thus,  until  they  will 
confront  you  with  witnesses  who  will  swear  that  you  said 
everything  that  can  be  imagined.  Do  not  say  anything 
about  it  whatever,  except  to  tell  them  that  when  the  case 
is  at  the  bar  they  may  learn  the  facts  from  the  evidence. 
You  will  have  enough  to  do  to  keep  your  account  straight 
when  you  are  cross-examined,  without  having  to  encounter 
ten  thousand  things  which  you  might  be  reported  as  hav 
ing  said  elsewhere." 

Amy  promised  to  keep  her  mouth  under  lock  and  key. 
She  then  asked, — 

"  When  will  you  commence,  uncle  ?" 

"  For  Cora's  sake,  I  must  wait  until  the  last  moment 
before  the  next  session ;  for  this  matter  will  have  to  be 
adjusted  by  law,  I  am  satisfied.  It  would  be  cruel  to  open 
the  subject  now,  as  Cora  would  be  compelled  to  remain 

16* 


186  TEKEL, 

with  Oswald  Huron  until  her  lineage  was  determined, 
she  in  the  mean  while  not  regarding  him  as  her  father." 

"  But  how  do  you  know  that  Oswald  Huron  will  not 
give  her  up  after  he  is  told  about  it?" 

"How  do  I  know  it?  How  do  I  know  that  the  water 
buoys  the  boat,  or  that  the  hyena  loves  blood  ?  It  is  his 
nature  not  to  give  her  up.  He  would  not  yield  her  if 
he  knew  she  was  his  brother's  child,  unless  he  should  be 
the  first  to  discover  that  fact.  Out  of  deference  to  his 
own  discovery,  he  might  propose  a  restoration  of  the 
daughter  to  her  parents,  but  he  will  abide  no  other  per 
son's  discovery  on  this  or  on  any  other  subject." 

"  Then  what  is  she  to  do  when  the  business  begins  ?" 
asked  Amy.  "  She  will  be  in  his  power  until  some  result 
is  reached." 

"I  hardly  know.  I  both  feel  and  fear  for  her,"  said 
Captain  Gale.  "  When  Oswald  Huron's  mind  becomes 
eclipsed  by  what  he  conceives  to  be  a  laudable  •  spirit  of 
personal  vindication,  it  is  bloody  and  strange,  and  halts 
at  nothing;  and  1  firmly  believe  that  he  would  kill  her, 
rather  than  be  defeated  and  compelled  to  give  her  up." 

"  You  will  go  to  sea  and  return  then  before  you 
attempt  to  do  anything  ?" 

"  Yes.  I  shall  probably  have  time  to  make  a  couple  of 
cruises  before  the  period  for  action." 

"  But  what  if  her  brother  comes  down  to  Creswood 
again  while  you  are  at  sea  ?" 

"  That  is  a  question  to  be  considered,"  said  Captain 
Gale,  reflecting  a  few  moments.  He  then  continued  :  "  If 
he  does  come,  and  you  are  not  expecting  me  back  when 
he  arrives,  go  to  Cora  and  tell  her  that  Graham  Huron 
is  her  brother.  Tell  it  to  her  as  coming  from  me,  and  she 
will  the  more  readily  believe  it.  At  all  events,  bind  her 
to  keep  it  secret  until  I  come." 

"  What  if  she  will  not  believe  me  ?" 

"  She  will  at  least  await  my  arrival.  You  do  exactly 
as  I  tell  you,  and  not  a  whit  more." 

Captain  Gale  again  put  to  sea,  steering  in  the  path  to 
fortune  over  a  pathless  deep. 

Indian  Summer,  with  its  azure  haze,  its  frosts  and  yellow 
leaves,  was  beginning  to  throw  its  dreamy  spell  upon 


OR   CORA    OLENCOE  187 

tranquil  Creswood,  when  Graham  Huron  made  a  second 
visit  to  Cliff  Hall. 

It  was  hardly  time  for  the  Whitecap  to  be  expected  at 
the  island,  and  Amy  Turnbolt  grew  very  uneasy  as  she 
thought  of  the  task  which  was  set  for  her  to  do,  in  the 
making  of  her  strange  communication  to  Cora  Glencoe. 
She  put  it  off  from  day  to  day,  fearing  to  go  to  Cliff  Hall, 
and  finding  Cora  attended  by  Graham  whenever  the  young 
girl  left  the  Hall  for  a  walk  or  ramble. 

A  week  thus  passed,  and  Amy  was  getting  to  feel 
wretched,  lest  she  should  delay  too  long,  suffer  irretrieva- 
'ble  wrong  to  result,  and  merit  the  stern  censure  of  Cap 
tain  Gale,  and  of  her  own  conscience.  She  spent  a  great 
deal  of  her  time  upon  the  Larboard  Strand,  hoping  to 
meet  Cora  unattended,  but  Graham  was  always  in  the 
way.  Growing  desperate,  she  determined  to  separate  Cora 
from  Graham  the  next  time  she  should  see  them,  and  tell 
to  Cora  what  she  had  been  commissioned  to  say.  The 
opportunity  soon  presented  itself.  About  one  o'clock  one 
pleasant  Indian  Summer  day,  she  saw  Cora  and  Graham 
sitting  upon  the  Tarpeian  Rock,  enjoying  a  picnic.  Amy 
nerved  herself  and  started  up  the  strand.  Ordinarily,  she 
could  have  met  either  Cora  or  Graham  without  trepida 
tion,  but  she  now  felt  as  if  on  an  exhuming  expedition, 
and  she  went  forward  with  something  like  fear  and  trem 
bling.  She  walked  slowly,  attempting  to  fix  in  her  mind 
and  on  her  tongue  the  exact  words,  and  no  more,  with 
which  she  was  charged ;  for  the  subject  in  hand  was  one 
of  deep  interest  to  Amy,  and  once  fully  open  for  discus 
sion,  would  be  exhaustive  of  nearly  every  word  in  her 
vocabulary.  Irresolutely  she  approached  the  Tarpeian 
Rock,  until  Cora  recognized  and  spoke  to  her.  Graham 
bowed  carelessly. 

"  We  are  taking  a  snack,"  said  Cora  to  Amy.  "  Come 
and  share  with  us." 

"  Thank  you,  Miss  Cora,  I  am  just  from  dinner.  I  came 
here  to  see  you." 

"  Very  well, — I  am  here,  and  at  your  service.  What 
is  it  that  you  wish  to  see  me  about  ?" 

"  I  have  something  to  say  to  you,"  said  Amy,  glancing 


188  TEKEL, 

at  Graham  in  such  a  manner  that  he  would  have  been 
dull  not  to  have  understood  her. 

"  I  am  de  trop,"  said  Graham,  smiling  at  Cora  as  he 
proceeded  to  get  down  from  the  rock  and  step  apart. 

"Now  Amy, — or  what  must  I  call  you?"  asked  the 
young  girl  pleasantly. 

"  Call  me  Amy, — or  Aunt  Amy  if  you  like,  for  I  am  old 
enough  to  be  your  aunt." 

"  Well  now,  Aunt  Amy,  what  can  we  do  for  each 
other  ?"  asked  Cora  very  sweetly. 

Amy  felt  like  clasping  Cora  in  her  arms,  and  making  a 
clean  breast  of  it.  She  glanced  toward  Graham  to  be 
certain  that  he  was  out  of  ear-shot,  for  now  was  the 
coveted  time  in  which  to  make  her  revelation.  But  just 
as  she  drew  in  a  supply  of  breath  upon  which  to  begin, 
she  saw  the  Whitecap  gracefully  rounding  the  bluffs  in 
front  of  Cliff  Hall  and  sweeping  home  to  anchor. 

"Bless  me!"  cried  Amy,  relieved  and  disappointed  at 
the  same  time  ;  "there's  Uncle  Gale  and  the  Whitecap." 

"What  a  beautiful  boat!"  said  Cora,  as  she  watched  the 
Whitecap  cleave  the  wave,  "and  oh,  how  I  should  like  to 
take  a  ride  on  it !" 

Amy  thought  that  she  had  never  seen  Cora  so  bright 
and  unfettered  as  at  this  moment.  She  said, — 

"  Uncle  Gale  would  take  you  riding  almost  any  time. 
He  gives  us  all  a  short  trip  down  at  the  island  whenever 
he  thinks  we  want  it." 

"  I  know  he  would  take  me,"  replied  Cora,  still  watch 
ing  the  queenly  Whitecap.  "  But  what  was  it  that  you 
wished  to  say  to  me  ?" 

Amy  hesitated  whether  to  speak  or  wait  and  let  her 
uncle  determine  what  should  now  be  done.  She  decided 
upon  the  latter  course,  and  very  prudently;  for  had  she 
ever  opened  her  meuth,  Cora  would  have  won  from  her 
everything  that  she  knew,  and  perhaps  more.  But  she 
must  answer  Cora  and  account  for  requesting  a  private 
interview ;  and  not  knowing  better  what  to  say,  she  re 
plied, — 

"  It  is  something  which  Uncle  Gale  told  me  to  tell  to 
you  some  time  ago,  but  now  that  he  has  returned,  it  will 
be  best  that  he  should  tell  you  himself." 


OR    CORA    GLENCOE.  189 

"  That  is  not  fair  now,  to  make  me  curious  and  then 
leave  me  so,"  said  Cora,  coming  as  near  to  a  pout  as  she 
ever  did.  It  then  flashed  upon  Cora's  mind  that  this  com 
munication  might  have  some  connection  with  the  prophecy 
which  Captain  Gale  had  vouchsafed  her  on  a  previous 
occasion,  and  she  was  impatient.  "  It  is  not  fair  now,"  she 
repeated.  "Can't  you  tell  me  yourself?" 

"I  know  it  is  not  fair,"  said  Amy,  "but  it  is  best. 
Uncle  Gale  will  meet  your  curiosity  more  readily  perhaps 
than  I  could,  and  satisfy  it  better."  Rather  hesitatingly, 
Amy  asked  a  favor.  "Miss  Cora,"  said  she,  "will  you 
please  let  me  see  your  hand  ?" 

Cora,  who  had  been  lunching  with  half  fingers,  pulled 
off  a  glove  and  extended  to  Amy  a  perfect  model  of  a 
hand.  Amy  took  it  and  kissed  it. 

"  Now  please  let  me  see  the.  other." 

Cora  extended  her  other  hand,  which  Amy  took,  kissed 
likewise,  and  released. 

"  You  are  very  kind,"  said  Cora. 

"  I  saw  those  little  hands  when  they  were  not  one-tenth 
so  large, — and  kissed  them  too,"  said  Amy,  losing  a  meas 
ure  of  her  prudence. 

"  Did  you,  indeed  ?"  exclaimed  Cora  brightly. 

"Yes  I  did.  I  was  your  nurse  once,"  added  Amy, 
losing  yet  more  of  her  prudence. 

"  Why,  you  dear  woman,"  said  Cora  affectionately  ;  "  I 
did  not  know  that.  Come  and  let  me  kiss  your  brow." 

Cora  plunged  headlong  down  into  Amy's  heart  when 
she  put  her  arms  about  her  neck  and  kissed  her,  and  smiled 
sweetly  in  her  face,  and  kissed  her  impulsively  and  cutely 
again,  and  then  pushed  her  playfully  away,  saying, — 

"  There  now, — there's  my  love." 

Amy  would  have  died  for  Cora  on  the  spot.  Almost 
overcome  with  an  emotion  half  maternal,  she  withdrew 
and  went  home.  As  soon  as  she  could  see  her  uncle 
privately,  she  told  him  what  the  reader  already  knows, 
adding  from  her  secret  gainings, — 

"  Uncle,  I  fear  the  mischief  is  partly  accomplished.  I 
asked  to  see  her  hands,  and  on  one  finger  is  a  ring  which 
looks  new  and  bright,  and  for  all  the  world  to  me  like  an 
engagement-ring. " 


190  TEKEL, 

"What  does  an  engagement-ring  look  like?"  asked  Cap 
tain  Gale,  who  did  not  pretend  to  be  au  fait  in  such 
matters. 

"I  don't  exactly  know,  but  this  looked  just  like  one  to 
me,"  was  the  somewhat  paradoxical  reply,  at  which  Cap 
tain  Gale  would  have  been  inclined  to  smile,  had  he  not 
been  in  too  serious  a  mood.  A  very  grave  expression 
came  upon  the  mariner's  face,  for  there  was  a  duty  im 
mediately  before  him,  which,  however  painful  and  delicate 
it  might  be,  was  yet  more  dangerous  than  it  was  delicate 
or  painful. 

"You  must  tell  her,  uncle,"  said  Amy. 

"  I  intend  to  tell  him,"  replied  Captain  Gale. 

«  Who,— Oswald  Huron  ?" 

"Yes;  Oswald  Huron." 

Amy  for  a  moment  looked  terrified ;  but  she  had  so 
much  confidence  in  the  courage,  discretion,  oak-like  firm 
ness,  and  physical  strength  of  her  uncle,  that  her  terror 
subsided  into  mere  anxiety. 

"  When  and  how  will  you  tell  him  ?"  she  asked. 

"  I  shall  go  up  to  Cliff  Hall  this  afternoon,  and  tell  him 
in  plain  English.  I  trust  that  nothing  has  transpired  be 
tween  Cora  and  Graham  to  make  them  regret  their  rela 
tionship  when  it  shall  be  discovered  to  them." 

"'Cora  is  as  pure  as  snow,"  said  Amy. 

"  Pshaw  !"  said  Captain  Gale ;  "  I  am  not  speaking  of 
her  purity.  I  mean  that  it  is  to  be  hoped  that  the  two 
young  people  have  not  suffered  themselves  to  become 
lovers  to  such  a  degree  as  will  make  them  unwilling  or 
disappointed  to  be  brother  and  sister."  • 

"  I  believe  they  are  already  lovers,"  said  Amy. 

"  In  that  event,"  said  Captain  Gale,  "  love's  young 
dream  must  be  rudely  broken  up.  To  know  that  they  are 
brother  and  sister  will  serve  to  soften  their  disappoint 
ment,  if  not  to  displace  it  altogether." 

"  I  hope  you  may  come  away  in  triumph  and  safety," 
said  Amy,  going  into  the  cottage. 

Captain  Gale,  after  sitting  and  reflecting  awhile,  got  up 
and  went  down  to  the  Whitecap.  Unlocking  a  chest,  he 
took  out  a  revolving  pistol  which  he  was  accustomed  to 
take  to  sea  with  him,  where,  upon  one  or  two  occasions, 


OR   CORA    GLEN  CO  E.  191 

he  had  found  technical  use  for  it  in  restoring  discipline 
during  the  panic  of  furious  storms.  But  if  ever  a  man 
flinched  or  mutinied  in  time  of  peril,  that  was  his  last  trip 
on  the  Wbitecap.  Captain  Gale  could  overlook  or  pardon 
a  little  constitutional  timidity,  when  the  tempest  roared, 
and  the  air  and  sea  were  ablaze  with  fire,  and  the  Ocean 
Eagle  went  screaming  and  kiting  through  the  lurid  storm ; 
but  he  never  forgave  that  dogged  submission  which,  min 
gled  with  meanness,  induced  a  man  now  and  then  to  give 
up,  fold  his  hands  in  negative  mutiny,  and  obstinately 
refuse  to  do  duty  except  under  cover  of  a  pistol  tube. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

IT  was  late  in  the  afternoon  when  Captain  Gale  walked 
up  the  Larboard  Strand  on  his  way  to  Cliff  Hall. 

He  had  not  been  upon  the  premises  for  more  than 
twenty-five  years,  and  would  likely  never  go  upon  them 
again. 

He  was  better  aware,  probably,  than  any  one,  that  he 
had  no  ordinary  man  to  meet,  and  no  ordinary  interview 
to  conduct. 

He  was  sensible  of  the  personal  danger  he  was  about 
to  encounter,  but  he  could  not  delegate  the  interview  to 
any  other,  and  would  not. 

As  he  walked  up  the  strand,  bis  usually  resolute  face 
was  doubly  resolute  with  the  determination  to  do  his 
duty,  and  to  do  it  with  such  firmness  and  coolness  as 
would  likely  countervail  the  personal  risk  he  would  have 
to  dare,  and  carry  convincing  proof  of  the  fact  he  was 
about  to  reveal. 

He  found  the  Tarpeian  Rock,  which  Cora  so  loved  to 
frequent,  desolated  of  her  sweet  form  and  presence,  and 
he  met  no  one  in  his  way  to  Cliff  Hall. 

Nearing  the  mansion,  a  gloomy,  ancestral  looking  pile, 
he  saw  Oswald  Huron  standing  in  the  main  entrance, 
which  fronted  to  the  south. 


192  TEKEL, 

Oswald  Huron,  recognizing  Captain  Gale  and  his  inten 
tion  of  entering  the  front  gate,  turned  about,  withdrew 
into  the  building,  and  armed  himself. 

As  Captain  Gale  approached  the  door,  Oswald  Huron 
again  appeared,  coming  along  the  hall,  and  confronting 
the  captain  as  the  latter  stepped  upon  the  threshold. 

The  two  men  halted  and  looked  at  each  other,  as  if,  on 
Oswald  Huron's  part,  they  were  the  only  two  men  on 
earth,  and  he  did  not  know  that  the  other  existed  until 
that  moment ;  and,  on  Captain  Gale's  part,  as  if  he  were 
considering  whether  it  was  man  or  beast  that  confronted 
him. 

"An  unsolicited  honor,"  finally  said  Oswald  Huron, 
bowing  to  Captain  Gale  with  freezing  mock  politeness. 

"  I  come  to  offer  you  neither  blandishments  nor  honors," 
calmly  replied  Captain  Gale. 

"  Probably  to  make  a  demand,"  said  Oswald  Huron, 
showing  his  white  teeth. 

"  You  owe  me  nothing,  and  if  you  did,  I  should  hardly 
trouble  myself  to  come  to  you  for  it." 

"  You  are  here  then  to  grant  me  a  favor,  possibly  ?" 
was  the  rejoinder,  in  which  a  little  fierceness  and  a  good 
deal  .of  sarcasm  was  mingled.  He  added,  "I  ask  none, 
sir." 

"Mr.  Huron,"  said  the  unmoved  captain,  "you  might 
question  me  for  twelve  months,  and  then  conjecture  for  as 
many  more,  and  you  would  not  even  approach  the  cause 
which  brings  me,  consciously  unwelcome,  into  your  de 
mesnes  " 

"  Probably  you  will  be  so  kind  as  to  inform  me,  then, 
before  I  invite  you  into  ray  house,"  said  Oswald  Huron, 
who,  during  the  interview  so  far,  was  leaning  forward  to 
wards  his  visitor,  with  one  foot  advanced,  as  if  in  the  act 
of  springing  or  rushing  upon  him. 

"  I  do  not  court  an  invitation  into  your  house.  You 
can  invite  me  in  or  not.  If  I  should  go  in,  it  would  be 
solely  on  account  of  convenience  to  myself.  I  can  per 
form  my  errand  here." 

"  What  is  your  errand,  sir  ?" 

"  It  is  one  in  which  you  are  concerned  ;  not  I.  It 
is  one  in  which  the  interests  are  your  own;  not  mine.  I 


OR    CORA    OLENCOE.  193 

am  here,  not  from  any  anticipated  pleasure,  but  from  a 
sense  of  duty.  Although  I  come  not  to  dictate  to  you, 
you  will  do  well  to  listen  to  me.  And  furthermore,  to 
put  myself  upon  a  proper  basis,  I  will  tell  you,  Mr.  Oswald 
Huron,  plainly,  that  if  you  were  the  only  person  concerned 
I  should  not  have  come  at  all." 

"  Gale,"  said  Oswald  Huron,  with  a  dash  of  humor,  "  I 
like  your  boldness.  It  entitles  you  to  a  seat  at  least. 
Therefore,  if  your  errand  involves  any  discussion,  for  the 
sake  of  convenience  we  will  go  in  and  be  seated ;"  and  he 
led  the  way,  followed  by  the  brave  captain,  into  an  ante 
room,  where  each  took  a  chair. 

"  Now,  sir,"  said  Oswald  Huron,  after  they  had  settled 
themselves,  "  I  am  ready  to  listen  to  you." 

"  Mr.  Huron,"  said  Captian  Gale,  "  it  is  hardly  necessary 
for  me  to  remind  you  that  we  have  not  for  years  regarded 
each  other  as  friends." 

"  That  is  plain  enough  so  far,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Nor  is  it  for  the  purpose  of  courting  your  favor  that 
I  frankly  admit  and  assert  to  you  that  I  have  as  little 
desire  to  injure  you  as  to  befriend  you." 

"  Gale,  I  am  convinced  that  you  are  not  afraid  to  speak 
the  truth,  and  consequently  I  grant  that  you  are  sincere. 
Had  I  known  you  better  sooner,  we  might  have  been 
better  friends."  This  was  said  rather  gracefully  by  the 
proprietor  of  Cliff  Hall.  "  But  I  am  waiting  for  your 
communication." 

"  What  I  am  about  to  tell  you,"  continued  Captain 
Gale,  "  will  not  only  surprise  and  amaze  you,  but  it  will 
stir  you  very  deeply ;  and  as  I  approach  the  subject,  I 
wish  to  prepare  you,  only  asking  that  you  will  endeavor 
to  be  calm,  and  bring  your  reason,  not  your  temper,  to 
bear  upon  it." 

The  countenance  of  Oswald  Huron  indicated  that  he 
was  becoming  interested.  Captain  Gale  continued  : 

"  When  I  have  made  to  you  a  revelation  of  fact,  which 
for  years  has  been  withheld  from  you,  your  first  wonder  or 
question  might  be,  '  Why  has  it  been  so  long  withheld  ?' 
and  your  next,  '  Why  is  it  now  revealed  ?'  When  I  have 
told  you  what  it  is,  I  will  then  endeavor  to  abate  your 
wonder  and  answer  your  questions." 

IT 


194  TEKEL, 

Oswald  Huron  was  becoming  excited  in  spite  of  himself, 
and  his  efforts  to  maintain  his  calmness  were  commendable 
if  not  successful.  The  surest  way  to  unhinge  the  nerves 
of  a  person  is  to  mysteriously  and  portentously  caution 
that  person  to  keep  his  nerves  on  their  hinges.  This  thing 
of  preparing  people  for  good  or  bad  news  is  generally  not 
a  good,  but  a  bad  plan.  It  is  like  bleeding  a  patient  to 
give  the  patient  strength  for  a  severer  operation  ;  like  ex 
ercising  a  horse  to  the  verge  of  fatigue  preliminary  to 
the  straining  race.  Captain  Gale,  however,  had  properly 
conceived  both  the  measure  of  his  purpose  and  the  mettle 
of  his  man.  It  was  not  the  sensibilities  of  Oswald  Huron 
about  which  he  was  solicitous,  but  the  preservation  of  his 
reason  and  moderation.  The  captain  kept  his  eye  upon 
him  as  upon  some  doubtful  and  dangerous  creature.  Os 
wald  Huron  waited  for  the  captain  to  proceed. 

"  Mr.  Huron,  there  are  some  strange  things  in  this 
world ;  and  one  of  the  very  strangest,  but  as  true  as  it  is 
strange,  is  the  fact,  which  I  now  announce  to  you,  that 
Cora  Glencoe  is  not  your  child,  but  the  child  of  your 
brother  Neville." 

Captain  Gale  barely  had  time  to  deliver  the  words  before 
Oswald  Huron  sprang  up,  and,  with  electric  eye,  grimly 
said, — 

"You  are  a  liar  /" 

Captain  Gale  had  also  risen,  simultaneously  with  his 
adversary,  for  such  he  may  be  called. 

"  Oswald  Huron,"  said  the  unruffled  mariner,  "  in  the 
performance  of  a  duty  and  the  expiation  of  a  delinquency, 
I  came  prepared  to  ignore  any  insult  which  you  might 
offer  me.  I  also  came  prepared  to  defend  myself  against 
any  violence  you  might  unreasonably  attempt  upon  me. 
But  I  wish  to  address  your  reason,  not  your  passions. 
Take  your  seat  now,  and  hear  me.  Then,  if  you  con 
sider  me  a  liar,  you  shall  be  welcome  to  your  considera 
tion,  so  far  as  I  am  individually  concerned." 

Oswald  Huron,  glaring  upon  Captain  Gale,  slowly  re 
sumed  his  chair.  There  was  but  one  circumstance  which 
curbed  him  and  fortified  him  with  sufficient  reason  longer 
to  listen.  It  was  the  well-remembered  fact,  which,  at 
times,  flitted  through  his  mind,  that  he  had  never  known 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  195 

the  infant  children  one  from  the  other  ;  and  that,  on  the 
night  he  went  out  and  gathered  up  the  mangled  remains 
of  what  he  supposed  to  be  his  brother's  child,  a  fearful 
doubt  had  swept  into  his  soul,  which  was  only  allayed  by 
the  reflection  that  Maria  Guthrie  knew  the  infants,  each 
from  the  other,  and  that  she  had  assured  him  the  surviv 
ing  child  was  his  own.  When,  therefore,  he  resumed  his 
seat,  it  was  with  an  undetermined  mind,  which  suggested 
a  mental  inquiry  as  to  the  possibility  of  Captain  Gale's 
truthfulness,  and  the  scope  of  his  information  on  the  sub 
ject.  Evidencing  a  reluctant  willingness  that  Captain  Gale 
should  proceed,  he  listened  to  a  minute  detail  of  the  cir 
cumstances  surrounding  the  fact  which  bereft  him  of  a 
daughter. 

Up  to  this  time,  Captain  Gale  had  only  referred  to  the 
confessions  of  Amy  Turnbolt.  He  then  handed  Oswald 
Huron  the  affidavit  which  Amy  had  made  more  than 
fifteen  years  ago,  and  but  a  short  time  after  the  calam 
ity.  Mr.  Huron  read  the  affidavit  and  passed  it  back. 
Captain  Gale  then  informed  him  why  the  imposition  had 
been  practiced  by  the  nurses,  why  the  fraud  was  not 
sooner  exposed,  and  why,  in  view  of  Cora's  brother,  he 
was  compelled  to  make  the  revelation  «MW.  Oswald 
Huron,  with  all  his  fiery,  sulphurous  soul,  was  softened 
and  partly  convinced.  Relenting,  he  asked,  with  evident 
sadness  and  concern, — 

"  Captain  Gale,  is  this,  can  this  be  true?" 

"  Mr.  Huron,  I  am  as  firmly  convinced  that  it  is  true  as 
that  the  sun  shines  to-day." 

"  Have  you  no  other  evidence  than  that  of  Amy  Turn- 
bolt?  Aha!"  he  exclaimed,  his  eyes  beginning  to  gleam; 
"  what  of  the  other  nurse  ?  What  of  Maria  Guthrie  ?" 

"  Her  evidence  is  to  the  same  effect,  and  yet  stronger, 
for  she  acknowledges  the  deception  as  one  suggested  and 
enforced  by  herself,  Amy  being  constrained  by  her  terror 
of  you  as  a  necromancer." 

"Where  is  her  evidence?"  demanded  Oswald  Huron, 
who  was  becoming  nervous  with  well-founded  excitement. 

"  I  have  it  here,"  answered  Captain  Gale,  who  drew  out 
and  delivered  the  affidavit  of  Maria  Guthrie. 

Oswald  Huron  took  the  paper  and  read  it.     A  fierce 


196  TEKEL, 

and  sudden  change  came  over  him,  and  the  very  devil 
looked  out  from  his  countenance.  He  had  recognized  the 
handwriting  of  Lawyer  May.  He  was  about  to  tear  the 
affidavit  to  pieces,  when  Captain  Gale  snatched  it  from 
his  fingers.  Springing  up  with  uncontrollable  fury,  he 
shouted, — 

"Conspiracy  !  It  is  a  conspiracy  from  hell!" 

He  drew  a  formidable  knife,  with*wtiich  he  had  armed 
himself  when  he  first  saw  Captain  Gale  approaching  his 
gate.  Captain  Gale  prepared  himself  for  a  desperate  en 
counter  in  the  event  that  it  could  not  be  avoided.  At  this 
moment,  Cora  Glencoe,  attracted  by  the  unusual  noise, 
and  just  returned  from  a  ramble,  came  into  the  room,  her 
hair  loose  flowing,  and  she  in  most  lovely  woodland  des 
habille.  Oswald  Huron,  in  his  rage,  seized  her  by  the 
hair,  and  waved  the  glittering  blade  over  her  upturned 
face,  with  every  indication  of  eye  and  hand  that  he  would 
plunge  it  into  her  bosom.  With  the  bound  of  a  lion,  Cap 
tain  Gale  was  upon  him  instantly,  and  with  a  rugged 
strength  which  many  years  of  peace  had  husbanded  for 
war,  he  bore  the  madman  to  the  floor.  Cora  was  utterly 
confounded  with  amazement,  fear,  and  horror.  Graham 
Huron,  attracMd  "hlso  by  the  noise,  and  led  by  a  habit 
which  he  hsffof  following  up  Cora  wherever  she  went, 
appeared  at  the  door  while  Captain  Gale  was  struggling 
with  Oswald  Huron,  and  Cora  standing  by,  pallid  as  wax. 
In  his  hand  Graham  held  the  gem  pistol  which  Hector 
O'Dare  had  given  to  Cora,  and  with  which  he  had  been 
practicing  in  the  forest.  Not  understanding  the  situation, 
and  seeing  a  stranger  pressing  his  uncle  to  the  floor,  and 
Cora  standing  by,  mute  with  accumulating  terror,  he 
cocked  his  pistol  and  fired  it  at  Captain  Gale.  But  Cora 
struck  the  weapon  up,  and  the  ball  passed  into  the  oppo 
site  paneling. 

"  Hold,  Graham, — my  father  is  madf"  cried  the  young 
girl,  vigorously  interposing  between  the  pistol  and  Captain 
Gale.  Graham  was  perfectly  bewildered,  and  suffered  Cora 
to  take  possession  of  the  pistol. 

Captain  Gale,  with  an  outlay  of  all  his  strength,  suc 
ceeded  in  mastering  the  bloody  tiger  who  struggled  with 
him.  Disarming  Oswald  Huron  of  his  dagger,  and  also 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  197 

of  a  pistol  which  he  had  attempted  to  draw,  Captain  Gale 
sternly  said,  addressing  Graham, — 

"  Young  man,  take  these  weapons  and  put  them  beyond 
the  reach  of  this  wild-hearted  man  ;  and  don't  be  so  handy 
with  your  pistol.  See  you  this  little  girl  ?  She  is  your 
sister!  Take  her  and  protect  her  as  such,  until  to-mor 
row,  from  this  incarnate  fury,  who  is  not  her  father,  and 
who  would  murder  her.  •  Woe  to  the  Huron  blood  if  you 
do  not  heed  my  words." 

Graham  led  Cora  away.  "Captain  Gale  suffered  Oswald 
Huron  to  rise  from  the  floor,  standing  meantime  upon  his 
guard.  Oswald  Huron  was  merely  checked,  not  changed. 
Disarmed,  he  was  compelled  to  submit  to  the  sturdy 
strength  of  his  vanquisher,  and  to  permit  him  to  depart  in 
his  own  chosen  way.  Captain  Gale  left  the  premises 
without  saying  a  word.  He  knew  it  would  be  useless. 
A  prudential  impulse  caused  him  to  stop  at  the  gate,  and 
consider  whether  he  had  not  better  return  into  the  house 
and  'renew  his  cautions  more  distinctly  and  comprehen 
sively  to  Graham  and  Cora.  But  he  had  already  been 
forced  to  take  more  liberties  with  the  premises  and  the 
proprietor  than  was  customary  to  be  taken  by  one  man 
upon  the  fee-simple  of  another,  and  as  i^vas  growing 
dark  withal  he  determined  to  seek  his  home^nd  postpone 
any  farther  action  until  the  morrow.  It  would  have  been 
better  if  Captain  Gale  had  increased  his  caution  to  the 
young  people,  and  convinced  them  that  he  was  literal  in 
his  meaning,  for  both  Graham  and  Cora  regarded  his 
words  as  tropic  and  hyperbolic,  used  in  an  extreme,  and 
not  relating  to  their  actual  kinship,  but  to  the  exigency 
which  made  it  necessary  for  Graham  to  act  as  Cora's 
brother  in  protecting  her  from  an  unnatural  and  murder 
ous  father.  Although  Captain  Gale,  upon  reflection,  was 
sensible  that  such  an  interpretation  might  be  applied  to  his 
words,  he  trusted  reasonably  that  no  harm  would  result 
before  the  morrow,  from  which  time,  with  a  relentless 
activity,  which,  if  necessary,  would  consign  even  the 
Whitecap  to  worms  and  water-rot,  he  would  prosecute 
the  cause  of  Cora  Glencoe,  until,  for  weal  or  woe,  he  could 
say  "it  is  finished."  It  was  his  intention  first,  to  provide 
in  some  way  for  Cora's  safety  and  security  from  personal 

17* 


198  TEKEL, 

danger,  and  then  to  start  immediately  for  Philadelphia  to 
confer  with  Neville  Huron,  whose  buried  paternal  love, 
plucked  from  the  ashes  of  the  little  sarcophagus  which 
rested  in  the  family  vault,  and  resuscitated  to  the  double 
glow  which  burns  for  one  who  was  dear  to  the  heart,  and 
was  dead,  but  liveth,  would  arm  him  with  shield  of  brass 
and  blade  of  magic,  to  battle  with  his  tiger-hearted  brother 
for  the  lost  child  of  his  loins. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

IN  a  far  room  of  Cliff  Hall  sat  Cora  Glencoe  in  the  very 
acme  of  exquisite  despair.  She  could  not  but  regard  her 
own  father  as  a  murderer,  in  act  and  intent.  She  knew 
that  he  had  killed  Lawyer  May,  years  ago  ;  and  now,  with 
her  own  eyes,  she  had  seen  his  hand  ready  to  strike  the 
killing  steel  to  her  breast;  and  what  was  more  terrible 
and  sickening  still,  she  had  seen  his  eye  gleam  and  glare 
upon  her  with  a  tragic  light  which  was  the  unmistakable 
flash  of  the  hell-fire  that  burned  within  him. 

While  she  sat  like  a  chained  innocent  in  a  wilderness  of 
woe,  Graham  Huron  came  into  the  room,  sat  down  quietly, 
and  somewhat  wearily  said, — 

"  He  is  busily  writing." 

"  Graham,"  said  Cora,  while  she  seemed  almost  to  droop 
away  from  life,  "  I  am  as  desolate  as  a  lost  soul." 

Such  words,  coming  from  this  brave  little  girl,  who,  from 
her  infancy,  had  been  trained  to  fast  upon  hardness  and 
sorrow  while  looking  upon  softness  and  joy,  and  to  famish 
with  emptiness  of  heart  while  other  hearts  seemed  full 
with  plenty,  meant  that  she  was  in  the  midst  of  the  very 
abomination  of  desolation. 

"  Cora,"  said  Graham,  with  a  depth  of  feeling  which 
shook  his  voice,  "  let  me  again  tell  you  that  you  are  dearer 
to  me  than  all  the  earth.  I  cannot  offer  you  all  the  earth, 
but  I  can  give  to  you  a  world  of  love  in  some  sweet  spot, 
out  and  away  from  this  gloomy  cell ;  away  where  requiems 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  199 

shall  be  turned  to  songs  of  joy,  and  your  memory  soothed 
by  the  lotus  leaf  of  love.  Come  with  me,  and  cast  your 
burdens  here,"  and  he  touched  his  breast.  "  I  have  spoken 
to  your  father,  and  he  has  consented  that  you  shall  be  mine. 
Of  two  things  he  is  one, — a  madman  or  a  fiend.  Heaven 
grant,  what  I  believe,  that  he  is  mad.  It  is  my  duty  to 
shield  you  from  him,  and  your  own  duty  to  flee  for  a  time 
from  his  murderous  frenzy.  In  coming  with  me  you  vio 
late  no  command  or  ultimate  calm  wish  of  his.  Let  us  go 
to-night,  and  let  my  arm  be  your  stay  and  shelter,  and  my 
breast  your  home." 

Cora  fainted,  and  fell  into  the  arms  which  were  ready  to 
receive  her. 

On  the  following  day  there  were  strange  words  being 
whispered  from  mouth  to  ear  in  Creswood,  of  events 
transpired  the  evening  before  and  during  the  night,  and  of 
which  Cliff  Hall  was  the  mysterious  and  gloomy  center. 

Captain  Gale  was  astounded  and  thrilled  to  hear  that 
Graham  Huron  and  Cora  had  fled  the  Hall,  and  had  gone 
to  Mr.  Hope's,  where,  it  was  supposed,  they  were  secretly 
married,  and  whence  they  went — no  one  knew  whither. 

Captain  Gale  hired  a  dozen  men,  mounted  them  upon 
horses,  started  them  in  pairs  in  every  direction,  and 
charged  them  to  spare  neither  flesh  nor  foray  until  they 
had  halted  the  couple  and  sent  word  back  to  him  where 
they  could  be  found.  To  each  pair  of  horsemen  he  in 
trusted  a  short  and  hasty  note  for  Cora.  He  then  went 
to  Mr.  Hope's  and  made  inquiries.  Finding  the  minister, 
as  he  conceived,  somewhat  reticent  and  by  far  too  tranquil, 
Captain  Gale  unfolded  to  him  the  secret  which  had  been 
kept  for  years.  Mr.  Hope  turned  pale  with  interest.  To 
a  question,  he  answered, — 

"  No, — they  were  not  married  by  me.  They  wanted  my 
advice, — that  is,  Cora  did.  I  gave  it,  but  whether  it  will 
be  followed  or  not,  it  is  impossible  for  me  to  foretell.  I  do 
not  even  know  where  he  has  taken  her." 

"Mr.  Hope,"  asked  the  roused  and  anxious  captain, 
"do  you  believe  in  direct  providential  interposition?" 

"  I  do,"  replied  the  old  minister. 

"  How  is  it  secured  ?" 

"  By  earnest  prayer." 


200  TEKEL, 

"  Then  down  upon  your  knees,  you  godly  man,"  cried 
Captain  Gale,  volcanic  with  emotion  and.  concern,  "  and 
let  your  soul  teem  with  entreaty  for  this  youthful  pair. 
Where  is  Garland?  Let  him  join  you,  for  his  heart  is 
warm  for  supplication  with  the  fire  and  blood  of  youth." 

Garland  was  summoned,  and  made  aware  of  the  emer 
gency.  The  two  ministers  knelt,  and  old  Mr.  Hope  led 
in  prayer.  Captain  Gale  also  bent  the  knee,  notwithstand 
ing  that  on  this  particular  ground  of  faith  his  mind  was 
skeptical.  But  in  the  way  of  duty  he  was  determined  to 
take  all  chances,  as,  in  a  storm,  a  doubtful  port  was  better 
than  none.  As  he  listened  to  the  venerable  minister  call 
ing  upon  the  great  God  in  the  very  ire  of  earnestness,  and 
pleading  as  a  child  to  a  tender-hearted  father,  as  if  the 
Father  were  there,  manifest,  and  in  the  room,  he  almost 
looked  up  to  see  that  Face  on  which  no  man  looks  and 
lives.  When  the  supplication  was  finished,  Captain  Gale's 
Amen  came  from  the  center  of  his  sensibilities,  and  he  rose 
up  greatly  reinforced.  After  a  few  moments'  silence,  Mr. 
Hope  observed, — 

"I  omitted  to  inform  you,  Captain  Gale,  that  Cora 
has  her  maid,  a  middle-aged  woman,  with  her." 

"  That  is  a  good  indication,"  said  the  captain,  who 
took  his  leave  by  depositing  upon  a  desk  a  bank-bill  of  re 
spectable  denomination,  and  saying, — 

"  This,  gentlemen,  is  for  any  purpose  to  which  you  may 
see  proper  to  apply  it, — Church,  Sunday-school,  or  Char 
ity, — and  if  the  good  wishes  of  a  sinner  will  do  you  no 
harm,  accept  my  earnest  desire  for  your  welfare." 

When  Captain  Gale  had  gone,  old  Mr.  Hope,  turning 
to  his  son,  said, — 

"  Garland,  I  fear  I  shall  die  yet  before  I  get  that  bold, 
good  man  into  position." 

"His  heart  is  right,"  said  Garland,  "but  his  head  is  a 
little  out  of  plumb.  If  we  could  once  get  his  head  right, 
he  would  be  a  pillar  against  which  the  gates  of  hell 
would  never  prevail." 

"  Garland,"  said  the  old  minister,  continuing  a  subject 
upon  which  he  had  dwelt  before,  "if  I  should  die  before 
he  is  garnered,  never  lose  sight  of  him.  He  is  too  good 
a  man  to  be  risked  from  heaven ;  and  too  good  an  ex- 


OR   CORA    QLENCOE.  201 

ample  to  have  outside  of  the  church.  You  must  get  him 
into  the  church,  for,  independent  of  his  own  salvation, 
there  are  at  least  a  score  of  adults  who  would  follow  him, 
and  no  calculating  how  many  of  young  and  old  who 
would  follow  them.  There  wTas  Guy  Rapid ;  a  man  of  a 
different  type  it  is  true ;  a  man  whom  the  world  would 
regard  as  more  polished  and  loftier  in  his  aims,  but  in 
trinsically  the  same  character  of  man  as  Captain  Gale.  I 
never  could  get  him  into  the  church.  And  yet  we,  and  the 
church  also,  temporally  speaking,  owe  him  more  than  is 
due  to  all  the  citizens  of  Ores  wood  put  together.  He  was 
a  good  man,"  added  the  old  minister,  "  and  I  hope  that  it 
is  possible  for  his  soul  now  to  be  in  heaven." 

"Father,"  said  Garland,  changing  the  subject,  "you 
promised  to  tell  me  about  the  Rapid  family,  and  what  it 
was  that  destroyed  them  in  Texas.  What  was  it  ?" 

"  I  will  tell  you,  Garland,  but  it  is  under  the  seal  of  con 
fidence.  The  family  is  not  all  destroyed.  Cassel,  as  you 
know,  is  yet  living.  When  Mr.  Rapid  went  to  Texas,  he 
took  with  him  a  squad  of  rather  wild  young  men  who 
were  better  suited  to  that  region  than  to  this  quiet  place. 
He  thought  they  were  merely  wild,  without  being  vicious. 
Among  them  was  Jonas  Aiken,  who,  when  he  left  here, 
was  only  a  lad,  but  a  bad  one  by  inheritance  and  acquisi 
tion.  Also  a  man  by  the  name  of  Gilders  went  out  with 
Mr.  Rapid.  Aiken  and  Gilders  were  the  chief  herders  of 
the  Ranche.  Mr.  Rapid  prospered  with  his  herds,  and  as 
his  children,  a  son  and  daughter,  grew  up,  he  had  them 
educated  at  Eastern  and  Southern  institutions.  Cassel, 
who  is  as  beautiful  as  a  Greek  statue,  you  have  seen. 
You  used  to  know  him  when  he  was  a  little  leopard  of  a 
boy.  His  sister  Diana  was  as  lovely  as  the  dream  of  a 
Mohammedan,  and  as  high-hearted  as  Shakspeare's  Lu- 
crece.  She  was  a  pure  and  perfect  blonde,  a  youthful 
lady,  and  a  most  charming  girl.  I  saw  her  once  in  New 
York.  She  was  just  that  kind  of  girl  which  makes  young 
men  go  mad,  and  sets  old  men  like  me  by  the  ears  with 
delight.  I  know  of  no  one  to  compare  with  her  unless  it 
is  Cora,  whose  life  and  experience  however  have  obscured 
her  natural  starlike  luster,  and  marked  her  brow  with  a 
pensiveness  which  should  not  be  there,  and  which  I  hope 


202  TEKEL, 

some  day  to  see  disappear,  if  this  unfortunate  elopement 
does  not  terminate  fatally.  Well,  marauding  Indians  were 
devastating  the  settlements  along  the  upper  Brazos,  and 
Mr.  Rapid,  with  Cassel,  the  Rosses,  and  other  formidable 
frontiersmen,  went  out  to  punish  the  savages.  Diana  was 
left  at  Ranche  Rapid  with  the  negroes  and  the  herders. 
The  Indians  were  overtaken,  and,  after  a  desperate  battle, 
were  destroyed ;  but  Mr.  Rapid  was  killed  by  an  arrow. 
Cassel  went  immediately  home  to  arrange  for  the  trans 
portation  of  his  father's  remains  to  Ranche  Rapid.  But 
when  he  arrived  at  the  house  and  entered  it,  the  fate  of 
his  father  dwindled  to  insignificance  compared  with  that 
which  he  looked  upon.  On  a  couch  lay  Diana,  his  sister, 
dead.  In  her  exposed  white  bosom  a  dagger  was  stuck 
to  the  hilt,  pinning  to  her  bloodless  flesh  a  note  which 
told  of  the  Plutonian  horror  and  insufferable  pollution 
through  which  she  had  passed.  The  note  was  from  her 
own  hand  and  was  addressed  to  her  brother.  The  dagger 
was  her  refuge,  and  it  seemed  that  she  had  put  the  note 
upon  her  bosom  and  thrust  the  dagger  slowly  from  point 
to  hilt  through  it  and  into  her  heart,  and  had  then  lain 
down,  calmly  and  desperately  adjusting  herself  to  die. 
From  the  note,  Cassel  learned  that  Jonas  Aiken,  taking 
the  opportunity  of  the  absence  of  both  father  and  brother, 
had  violated  the  chastity  of  his  sister,  and  there  she  lay 
in  the  embrace  of  Death,  to  which  she  had  fled  from  the 
embrace  of  a  demon  worse  than  Death.  What  he  must 
have  felt  I  cannot  tell  you.  No  tongue  could  tell  it, 
or  inexperienced  heart  feel  it;  but  from  that  moment, 
mercy  for  the  Spoiler  was  forever  routed  from  his  heart. 
And,  Garland, — this  tragedy  of  the  Larboard  Strand, — 
I  have  the  key  to  it ;  for  as  certain  as  we  now  sit  here, 
the  dagger  which  Captain  Gale  drew  from  the  breast  of 
Jonas  Aiken,  is  the  same  that  Cassel  drew  from  his  sis 
ter's  bosom." 

"  Father,"  asked  Garland,  who  was  intensely  interested, 
"  is  there  any  punishment  too  great  for  the  crime  of  which 
Jonas  Aiken  was  guilty  ?" 

"  There  is  no  earthly  punishment  which  I  can  conceive 
of  too  great,  or  even  commensurate.  Unlike  most  other 
crimes,  which  are  the  result  of  provocation,  poverty,  or 


OR   CORA    GLEN  CO  E.  203 

feud,  this  is  a  premeditated,  unprovoked,  blasting  perpe 
tration,  by  the  strong  upon  the  weak,  for  which,  in  this 
immoral  and  abundant  world,  there  is  no  excuse  whatever. 
The  laws  upon  this  subject  are  dastardly  and  unmanly ; 
and  until  they  are  changed,  noble  souls  will  be  guilty  ofa 
slaughter.  It  is  nature,  —  irrepressible, — and  the  laws 
should  provide  for  it,  and  not  attempt  to  repress  it.  In 
this  State  the  law  approaches  to  a  just  conception  of  this 
crime.  But  in  most  of  the  States,  under  the  laws,  as 
they  now  read,  the  punishment  of  a  blameless  man,  who, 
from  overwhelming  and  irretrievable  outrage,  slays  the 
ravisher  of  his  family  honor  and  chastity,  and  thereby 
strikes  a  fiend  from  the  paths  of  his  countrywomen,  is 
greater  than  the  legal  punishment  of  the  fiend  himself, — 
the  fiend  who  desolates  the  hearts  of  families,  and  consigns 
a  weak  woman,  an  innocent  pure-hearted  girl  perhaps,  to  a 
life-long  tryst  with  shame,  or  to  death  by  reason  of  un 
bearable  pollution,  as  in  the  case  of  Diana  Rapid.  Mean 
while  the  Spoiler,  if  not  turned  loose  upon  a  disgusting 
technicality,  works  out  his  crime  within  the  walls  of  some 
prison-house,  as  one  would  work  out  a  task,  and,  in  a  few 
years,  is  again  set  free  upon  the  community  to  desolate 
more  families.  There  should  be  a  law  as  universal,  as 
firm,  and  as  fatal,  as  the  law  of  poison,  which  should  be  a 
bulwark  to  the  chastity  of  our  homes.  Every  man  knows 
that  if  he  violates  the  law  of  poison  he  will  surely  die. 
To  guard  our  countrywomen,  chivalrous  men  should  make 
a  law,  the  violation  of  which  would  be  deadly  bane  to  the 
Spoiler.  Cassel  Rapid  felt  that  the  law  mocked  him,  and 
he  disdained  to  appeal  to  it,  as  he  would  have  disdained 
to  appeal  to  Satan  to  purge  Hell  of  sin.  He  must  visit 
the  punishment  with  his  own  hand,  and  to  the  extreme ; 
but  even  then,  the  life  of  a  thousand  such  men  as  Jonas 
Aiken,  such  men  as  commit  these  crimes,  is  inadequate  to 
atone  for  the  destruction  of  a  single  life  like  that  of  Diana 
Rapid,  who,  to  her  brother,  was  a  matchless  sister,  and 
consummate  object  of  affection  and  devotion.  From  the 
day  that  his  sister  was  buried,  Cassel  has  hunted  her 
destroyer  through  jungle,  forest,  swamp,  and  city,  with 
unremitting  and  increasing  purpose.  There  are  many 
senseless  heads,  speaking  from  senseless  hearts,  and  say- 


204  TEKEL, 

ing  that  if  the  spoiler  is  killed  in  the  attempt,  the  slayer 
is  excusable  ;  but  that  after  the  act,  and  the  lapse  of  time, 
the  blood  being  cool,  the  slayer  is  inexcusable.  Can  the 
blood  of  a  man  ever  cool,  when  it  circles  as  it  were  in  a 
.furnace  of  ceaseless  and  innumerable  fiery  thoughts? 
You  may  as  well  wait  for  the  sun  to  cool.  Every  thought, 
and  every  reflection,  but  aggravates  the  heat;  and  even 
now,  when  I  think  of  Diana  Rapid,  my  old  blood  boils, 
and  my  arm  volunteers  to  strike.  Jonas  Aiken  endeavored 
to  induce  Gilders,  the  other  herder,  to  be  an  accomplice. 
Gilders  refused,  and  would  have  averted  this  matchless 
calamity,  but  Aiken  drew  a  pistol,  at  the  mouth  of  which 
he  bound  Gilders,  hand  and  foot,  with  a  lasso,  and  then 
went  about  his  demon's  work.  Gilders  did  all  that  he 
could  to  save  Diana,  and  afterwards  went  with  Gassel 
upon  the  hunt  for  Jonas  Aiken.  At  San  Antonio,  Cassel 
started  out  alone.  He  had  got  upon  the  track,  and  follow 
ing  it,  compelled  it  into  the  Llanos  Estacados,  where  the 
Comanche  holds  away.  That  determined  boy  went  into 
the  very  heart  of  the  Comanche  country,  and  into  the 
presence  of  its  savage  chief  Espanto,  whose  name  means 
everything  that  is  grim  and  fearful,  and  who  had  never 
turned  his  knife  from  the  scalp-lock  of  a  pale  face.  Cassel, 
in  Spanish,  told  his  mission.  Espanto,  in  savage  wonder 
at  the  surpassing  boldness  and  beauty  of  the  youth,  and 
partly  conceiving  the  royal  spirit  which  brought  him  into 
those  terrible  demesnes,  called  his  warriors  about  him  and 
scoured  his  vast  country  for  the  guilty  fugitive,  but  with 
out  success.  Aiken  escaped  into  the  States.  He  had  stolen 
sufficient  money  from  Colonel  Rapid's  desk  at  Ranche 
Rapid,  to  enable  him  to  change  his  location  at  will,  and 
take  every  advantage  of  his  pursuer.  He  was  ever  upon 
the  alert,  and  being  a  man  of  cunning  resource,  he  escaped 
until  his  money  was  exhausted  and  be  was  compelled  to 
work  and  shift  for  a  living.  He  came  back  to  Creswood, 
his  old  neighborhood.  Cassel  was  here  almost  as  soon  as 
he,  and  Jonas  Aiken  vanished  as  darkness  vanishes  from 
light.  Cassel  left  Creswood,  and  Jonas  Aiken  came  back 
again.  Legally,  I  know  nothing;  but  morally,  I  am  cer 
tain  that  Cassel  Rapid  slew  Jonas  Aiken.  What  the 
Geologist  had  to  do  with  it  I  do  not  know ;  but  I  know 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  205 

this,  that  in  Cassel  Rapid's  breast  there  beats  a  heart  as 
noble  as  any  that  ever  beat  within  the  breast  of  man, — an 
unregenerate  man,"  added  the  old  minister,  "  such  as,  in 
extremity,  meets  the  commandment  '  Thou  shalt  not  kill,' 
with  the  Mosaic  Law,  '  an  eye  for  an  eye,  and  a  tooth  for  a 
tooth.'  It  is  true  that  I  have  seen  but  very  little  of  Cassel 
since  he  was  a  child,  but  the  diamond  has  only  to  be  seen 
to  be  recognized.  This  thing  has  often  moved  me  deeply. 
I  never  can  forget  that  pure,  heroic  girl,  so  spirited,  lady 
like,  and  lovely,  and  so  well  constituted  to  enjoy  and  dis 
pense  the  brightest  things  on  earth,  but  destined,  alas  !  to 
be  ruthlessly  quenched  by  a  foul  fate,  which,  to  her,  was 
insufferable  and  incurable,  and  beyond  the  reach  of  any 
soothing  hand  but  that  of  Death — a  fate  too  oft  recurring, 
among  our  women  and  virgins,  for  the  honor  of  Ameri 
cans  and  the  laws  which  they  vote  into  our  statute  books. 
Cassel  showed  me  the  laws  of  almost  every  State  in  the 
Union,  upon  this  particular  subject,  and  I  can  but  denomi 
nate  the  majority  of  them  as  legislative  abortions — shame 
ful  abortions.  Before  any  human  can  condemn  Cassel,  let 
that  human  put  himself  in  Cassel's  place,  and  answer  the 
self-question,  '  What  would  I  have  done  ?'  When  a  legis 
lator  makes  laws  bearing  so  directly  and  vitally  upon  his 
countrywomen,  then,  if  at  no  other  time,  there  should  be 
some  manliness  in  his  conceptions  and  his  voice.  He 
should  vote  as  though  the  woman  whom  he  loved  was  sit 
ting  by  his  side  and  looking  him  in  the  eye.  Men  make 
laws  for  themselves,  and  also  for  the  women.  Therefore 
every  principle  of  manhood  and  chivalry  demands  that 
the  laws  should  protect  and  defend  our  women,  not  as  with 
an  aegis  of  paper  and  a  spear  of  wood,  but  as  a  gentleman 
would  protect  his  lady,  or  as  a  strong  man  would  defend 
his  house.  Where  a  woman  unfortunately  has  no  mascu 
line  arm  to  guard  her,  the  laws  should  so  read  as  to  cher 
ish  her,  and  be  her  knight,  steel-clad  and  gallant  for  her 
service.  Lawgivers  might  well  enliven  their  prosaic  sec 
tions  with  the  spirit  of  chevaliers,  when  prescribing  for 
those  who  depend  upon  them,  and  who  are  trusting — per 
haps  too  confidingly — to  their  honor." 

"  From  the  amount  of  gallantry  they  are  accustomed  to 
display  among  the  fair  visitors  in  the  lobby,  one  would  be 

18 


206  TEKEL, 

reasonable  in  supposing  that  they  would  break  a  lance  for 
them  in  the  forum  of  the  assembly,"  observed  Garland, 
when  his  father,  who,  though  an  humble  minister,  was  a 
gallant-hearted  man,  had  closed  his  remarks. 

Garland  returned  to  the  school-room,  and  the  old 
minister  soon  became  immersed  in  theological  commen 
taries. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

THE  runners  whom  Captain  Gale  had  sent  in  search 
of  Graham  and  Cora  were  coming  in  again  for  several 
days,  until  the  last  of  them  returned,  without  a  parti 
cle  of  information  having  been  obtained.  The  youthful 
pair  had  not  been  heard  of  in  all  the  region  round  about 
Creswood. 

Captain  Gale  had  ascertained  that  on  the  night  of  the 
elopement,  three  horses  had  been  taken  from  Oswald 
Huron's  stables,  and  he  reasonably  presumed  that  Graham 
and  Cora  had  left  Creswood  on  horseback,  the  third 
horse  being  for  Cora's  maid.  As  to  their  mode  of  travel, 
Mr.  Hope  was  deficient  in  accurate  knowledge,  having, 
in  the  surprise  and  disarrangement,  forgotten  or  failed  to 
inquire  about  it. 

Captain  Gale  had  not  been  so  outdone  in  all  the  days 
of  his  life.  He  was  as  impotent  as  he  felt  himself  to  be 
responsible.  An  irretrievable  family  disaster  might  occur, 
nay,  may  have  already  occurred,  and  he,  the  only  person 
who  might  have  prevented  it,  had  neglected  to  do  so  until 
now  that  he  was  as  powerless  as  one  stricken  with  the 
palsy. 

Oswald  Huron,  also,  was  making  efforts  to  have  the 
fugitives  arrested.  By  officers  of  the  law  he  would  have 
Cora  arrested  as  a  minor,  and  Graham  as  a  horse-thief, 
and  brought  back  to  him.  However  willing  he  might 
have  been  that  the  two  young  people,  regarded  as  cousins 
(and  he  so  regarded  them),  should  marry  each  other,  he 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  207 

could  tolerate  no  infringement  of  his  authority,  though 
that  infringement  should  conduce  to  bring  about  the  very 
end  at  which  he  aimed.  He  was  that  kind  of  man,  who, 
never  so  hungry,  would  not  suffer  ever  so  good  a  dinner 
to  be  thrust  upon  him. 

Neither  was  Oswald  Huron  satisfied  as  to  the  character 
of  the  elopement ;  whether  Graham  had  carried  off  Cora 
as  his  presumed  sister,  or  as  bis  bride.  If  she  had  gone 
as  Graham's  sister,  especially  would  he  appeal  to  the  law 
for  her  recovery.  He  would  have  had  Captain  Gale 
arrested,  and  held,  for  violently  entering  and  acting  upon 
the  premises  of  Cliff  Hall ;  but  a  cunning  prudence 
prompted  him  to  forego  such  a  measure,  and  in  the  suit 
which  he  intended  to  institute  for  the  possession  and  con 
trol  of  Cora  Glencoe,  be  she  bride  or  sister,  to  impeach  the 
testimony  of  Captain  Gale,  and  all  testimony  which  he 
might  superinduce,  upon  the  ground  of  enmity,  vindictive- 
ness,  and  conspiracy;  backing  up  his  impeachment,  in 
part,  by  what  he  would  make  to  appear,  and  what  he  may 
have  actually  considered,  an  unprovoked  and  unlawful 
assault  upon  him  in  his  own  house, — and  in  other  part,  by 
establishing  proof  of  the  long  and  well  known  unfriendly 
relations  existing  between  himself  and  all  who  were  likely 
to  be  concerned  against  him. 

Captain  Gale  was  in  a  mighty  muck  of  indecision  as  to 
what  was  best  to  be  done,  or  as  to  what  could  be  done. 
At  times,  this  tenacious,  anxious,  and  courageous  man 
was  almost  ready  to  throw  the  whole  matter  overboard,  as 
probably  past  cure,  or  altogether  beyond  the  power  of 
arrest.  But  there  were  several  considerations  which  held 
him  to  his  original  purpose,  and  also  whispered  encourage 
ment.  First,  his  conscience  pricked  him,  and  would  not 
permit  him  to  abandon  Cora.  After,  he  had  confidence 
in  Cora,  and  a  strong  trust  possessed  him  that  she  would 
do  nothing  precipitately.  That  she  had  left  the  home  of 
Oswald  Huron  was  not,  in  the  estimation  of  Captain 
Gale,  an  evidence  of  precipitation,  but  of  prudence  rather. 
Her  application  to  Mr.  Hope  for  advice  was  favorable,  and 
indicated  that  notwithstanding  she  might  and  doubtless 
did  have  great  confidence  in  Graham,  her  confidence  was 
limited,  and  subservient  to  her  trust  in  her  old  mentor, 


208  TEKEL, 

Mr.  Hope.  The  minister's  advice  could  not  be  other  than 
good,  and  Cora,  having  long  looked  up  to  the  now  venera 
ble  man  with  reverence,  and  love,  and  profit,  would  not  be 
.likely  to  break  away  from  his  counsels  unless  under  an 
extreme  and  mighty  stress. 

Mr.  Hope  was  no  advocate  of  Quixotic  measures,  and 
ordinarily  would  have  detained  the  young  girl  by  force  or 
persuasion,  and  advised  Oswald  Huron ;  but  when  Cora 
told  him,  as  far  as  she  knew,  what  had  occurred,  he  took 
the  responsibility  of  charging  her  not  to  return  home,  not 
to  remain  in  the  neighborhood,  and  not  to  say  where  she 
was  going ;  but  to  go,  keep  her  maid  with  her,  do  nothing 
which  could  not  be  undone,  and  when  the  hue  and  cry 
was  over,  to  let  him  know  where  she  was. 

"  I  would  like  to  know  now  where  you  are  going,  but  it 
may  be  better  for  me  not  to  know,  for  I  might  be  com 
pelled  by  your  father  to  divulge  it  in  a  magistrate's  court, 
or  refusing  to  do  so,  suffer  for  contempt." 

Such  had  been  Mr.  Hope's  farewell  words  to  Cora,  as 
she  started  out  into  the  night,  knowing  as  little  as  he  did 
whither  she  was  going. 

Opposed  to  Captain  Gale's  hopes  and  encouragements 
was  the  fear  that  under  the  manly  persuasions  of  Graham, 
Cora  would  yield  herself  up,  and  forever  elope  from  the 
melancholy,  grimness,  and  terror  of  the  past,  to  a  future 
whose  sunshine  and  promise  were  the  more  bright,  seduc 
tive,  and  summer-fair,  on  account  of  the  starless  night  out 
of  which  she  was  escaping. 

Captain  Gale  determined  to  go  to  Philadelphia  and  lay 
before  Neville  Huron  the  evidences  of  Cora's  parentage, 
and  inform  him  of  the  very  peculiar  and  alarming  rela 
tions  which,  it  was  supposed,  existed  between  the  brother 
and  sister.  It  was  possible  that  he  might  find  Graham 
and  Cora  under  their  father's  roof. 

When  Captain  Gale  arrived  at  Philadelphia,  he  sought 
out  Neville  Huron,  and  made  him  master  of  the  details  of 
the  subject  which  induced  his  visit.  The  unprecedented 
disclosures  of  Captain  Gale  threw  the  Huron  family  into  a 
maelstrom  of  hope,  dismay,  and  indescribable  feeling.  At 
first,  Neville  Huron  thought  it  best  to  conduct  a  secret 
search  for  Graham  and  Cora,  but  Captain  Gale  maintained 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  209 

that  rumor  was  more  active  than  lightning,  and  more 
pervading  than  mist,  and  that  the  sooner  the  world  knew 
all  about  it  the  better,  that  the  news  might  spread,  and 
probably  reach  the  young  pair  before  the  fleetest  and  most 
untiring  searcher  would  ever  find  them.  All  the  news 
papers  were  consequently  charged  with  notices,  the  tele 
graph  spoke  far  and  near,  and  quick-witted  men  were  put 
upon  the  alert  and  started  in  every  direction.  Among 
these  latter  was  our  old  acquaintance,  Hector  O'Dare. 

O'Dare  went  alone,  with  all  speed,  to  Creswood,  out 
running  Captain  Gale.  He  would  trace  the  fugitives  from 
the  doors  of  Cliff  Hall — from  the  very  starting-point.  He 
soon  ascertained  that  Creswood  had  learned  nothing  of 
the  whereabouts  of  Graham  and  Cora.  He  avoided  Os 
wald  Huron,  but  from  a  loquacious  stable  groom  at  Cliff 
Hall  he  obtained  a  minute  description  of  the  three  horses 
which  had  disappeared  simultaneously  with  the  elope 
ment.  O'Dare,  whose  experience  as  geologist  had  given 
him  a  pretty  good  idea  of  the  topography  of  Creswood, 
knew  that  there  were  not  many  ways  of  getting  out  of 
that  neighborhood  either  by  hoof  or  wheel.  After  having 
collected  every  item  of  any  value,  or  which  it  was  possi 
ble  for  him  to  discover,  he  went  upon  the  main  road  which 
led  from  Cliff  Hall  towards  the  interior.  About  half  a 
mile  from  the  Hall  he  stopped  where  the  roads  forked  ;  one 
fork  leading  westward,  the  other  northward.  With  him 
he  had  a  good  horse,  which  he  had  been  leading.  He  sat 
down  on  a  log  by  the  roadside,  as  if  to  whet  his  wits,  and 
pick  his  nose  for  a  keen  scent.  O'Dare  was  puzzled.  He 
had  no  idea  what  his  next  step  should  or  would  be.  Half 
an  hour  passed,  during  which  he  began  to  think  of  other 
things  than  his  present  enterprise.  Finally,  he  heard  the 
sound  of  hoofs.  His  horse  pricked  up  his  ears,  arched  his 
neck,  and  poising  his  head,  neighed  most  lustily.  The 
neigh  was  answered  several  times  from  the  direction  of  the 
approaching  hoofs,  and  in  a  few  moments  there  came  in 
sight,  on  the  north  fork  of  the  road,  a  man  riding  one 
horse,  leading  another,  and  followed  by  two  others.  The 
man,  contrary,  to  rural  custom,  passed  O'Dare  without 
greeting  him  good-day,  or  evincing  any  desire  to  be  him 
self  greeted. 

18* 


210  TEKEL, 

"  That's  all  well  enough  in  the  city,"  said  O'Dare  men 
tally,  and  taking  out  a  memorandum  which  he  had  just 
made;  " but  people  don't  do  that  thing  in  the  country  as 
a  generality.  I'll  examine  your  marks.  You  have  some 
reason  no  doubt  for  keeping  your  mouth  shut.  Don't  want 
to  invite  tedious  questions  probably.  Very  well;  I'll  carry 
on  a  little  dialogue  between  me  and  myself,  and  see  what 
we  will  make  of  it.  So  :" 

Question.  "  What  animal  is  that  which  you  are  leading, 
with  a  side-saddle  on  ?" 

Answer.  "  It  is  Miss  Cora  Glencoe's  dapple  gelding, 
and  no  mistake  about  it." 

Q.  "  Just  so.  What  sorrel  horse  is  that,  with  three 
white  feet,  shod  all  round,  natural  pacer,  man's  saddle,  and 
follows  so  well  ?" 

A.  "  It  is  Mr.  Oswald  Huron's  riding-horse,  which  Mr. 
Graham  Huron  took  from  the  stables  at  Cliff  Hall,  on  the 
night  of  the  elopement." 

Q.  "  Just  so.  What  bay  mare  is  that,  with  a  colt  in  her 
belly,  black  mane  and  tail,  left  fore  foot  white,  fox  trot,  side 
saddle,  and  anxious  to  get  home  ?" 

A.  "  She  is  the  mare  which  Miss  Huron's  maid  rode  off 
the  night  of  the  elopement." 

Q.  "  Just  so.  Where  did  these  animals  come  from,  all 
together,  and  in  such  good  trim  ?" 

A.  "  They  came  from  the  direction  of  the  runaways, 
and  the  man  who  has  them  in  charge  will  return  in  the 
same  direction,  and  Hector  O'Dare  will  go  with  him." 

"  Thank  you,  sir,"  said  O'Dare,  as  if  addressing  some 
accommodating  individual,  while  he  laughed  at  his  own 
solitary  drollery,  and  smiled  at  the  prospect  of  game  ahead. 
"  But  I'll  watch  this  man  and  see  what  he  does  with  the 
horses." 

Approaching  Cliff  Hall  and  ascending  an  eminence, 
O'Dare  saw  the  man  ride  to  within  a  hundred  yards  of  the 
stable  inclosure,  and  there  turn  the  three  animals  loose. 
They  started  for  their  stalls.  The  man  then  wheeled  his 
horse  and  came  rapidly  back  upon  the  road,  barely  giving 
O'Dare  time  to  get  into  position  again  where  the  road  forked. 
The  man  was  about  to  hurry  on  without  noticing  O'Dare, 


OR   CORA    GLEN  CO  E.  211 

when  the  latter,  by  a  maneuver  of  himself  and  horse  across 
the  road,  compelled  the  countryman  to  draw  up. 

"Don't  be  in  such  a  dreadful  hurry,"  said  the  detective, 
"  and  maybe  you'll  get  company." 

"  Don't  want  any  company,"  was  the  answer. 

"  But  I  do,"  insisted  O'Dare.  "  I  wish  to  find  my  way. 
This  is  your  road,  and  I  think  it's  mine.  We  will  go  along 
together  for  a  little  while  at  all  events,  and  talk  the  matter 
over.  I  may  be  able  to  learn  from  you  whether  I  am  on 
my  road  or  not.  I  won't  trespass  on  your  time  by  de 
taining  you  here,  but  we  can  balance  probabilities  as  we 
jog  along,  and  if  I  find  that  I  am  out,  I  can  ride  back 
again,  and  no  harm  done." 

"  But  you  can't  keep  up  with  me,"  said  the  man,  with 
an  evident  desire  to  get  rid  of  O'Dare.  "I'm  going  in  a 
whoop." 

"  Oh,  I  can  go  in  a  whoop  as  well  as  not,  and  carry  a 
bucket  of  water  on  my  head  for  that  matter.  My  horse 
can  beat  yours  at  any  gait  you  may  choose." 

The  man  was  riding  a  fine  country  horse.  The  rack 
being  probably  his  best  gait,  the  countryman  seeing  that 
O'Dare  was  likely  to  stick  to  him  unless  he  could  get  away 
by  superior  speed,  told  O'Dare  to  mount,  at  the  same  time 
starting  off,  and  shouting  back, — 

"Rack!" 

O'Dare  nimbly  mounted,  and  overtook  the  man  with  all 
ease,  for  he  was  riding  a  trained  horse  of  the  best  breed. 

"  Where  are  you  going  to  ?"  asked  the  disappointed 
countryman,  slacking  his  speed,  and  changing  his  tactics. 

"  That  is  exactly  what  I  wish  to  find  out,"  replied 
O'Dare,  with  good-humored  impudence. 

"But  how  do  you  expect  to  find  out?" 

"  From  you,"  said  O'Dare,  with  cool  presumption. 

"  How  the  devil  do  /  know  ?"  demanded  the  exasperated 
countryman,  whose  eyes  began  to  snap  with  kindling  ire. 

"You  might  consider  the  matter  for  the  sake  of  good 
company,"  said  O'Dare,  with  no  whit  of  his  persistency 
abated. 

"But  I  don't  want  any  company." 

"  You  don't  ?" 

"No,  I  don '*.»  I 


212  TEKEL, 

"  I  do,  though,"  said  the  detective. 

"Well  who's  to  have  his  way  now,  you  or  I?"  de 
manded  the  countryman,  who  seemed  to  think  that  matters 
had  come  to  a  pretty  pass  when  a  man  in  a  free  country 
couldn't  choose  his  company. 

"  I !"  was  O'Dare's  answer. 

"  You  are  the  dam'dest  man  I  ever  heard  of,"  said  the 
countryman,  who  halted  his  horse  and  indignantly  looked 
upon  the  strange  customer  who  seemed  determined  to  stick 
to  him  like  a  burr. 

"I'm  just  that  very  thing,"  assented  O'Dare,  who  like 
wise  halted  his  horse  and  faced  his  unwilling  companion. 

"  Look  here,  Mister,  you  may  find  it  a  little  dangerous 
riding  with  a  man  against  his  will,  and  the  more  so  the 
farther  you  get.  Do  you  see  this  ?"  and  the  countryman 
tapped  the  butt  of  a  pistol  which  was  belted  to  his  waist. 

"  I  have  two  of  them,"  said  O'Dare,  with  provoking 
nonchalance,  "  and  I  can  beat  you  shooting  with  my  left 
hand." 

"  If  you  don't  leave  me,"  said  the  man,  who  hardly  knew 
what  to  make  of  his  companion,  "  or  let  me  leave  you,  the 
very  first  house  I  come  to  I'll  have  you  arrested  as  a 
highwayman." 

"  Stand  and  deliver,  then !"  said  O'Dare,  presenting  a 
pistol  which  covered  the  man's  breast.  "  I'll  have  the 
benefit  of  your  arrest  at  least." 

"  Do  you  want  my  money  ?"  asked  the  countryman,  who 
had  been  taken  off  his  guard. 

"  Yes,"  said  O'Dare,  sternly,  "  and  your  pistol,  and  your 
horse.  We'll  see  who  is  quickest  at  an  arrest." 

The  countryman  prepared  to  dispossess  himself,  when 
O'Dare,  putting  up  his  pistol,  very  pleasantly  said, — 

"Neighbor,  you  misjudge  me  entirely.  I  do  not  want 
your  money,  or  your  arms,  or  your  horse ;  but  I  do  .want 
your  company.  Come  now,  don't  be  so  exclusive;  give 
me  graciously  what  I  need,  and  what  will  leave  you  none 
the  poorer ;  be  neighborly,  and  I  think  we  can  get  along 
together  as  softly  as  a  chunk  floating  down  stream." 

The  countryman,  greatly  relieved  at  not  being  robbed 
of  his  valuables,  rode  along  with  doubtful  confidence  in 
his  companion,  while  O'Dare  secretly  amused  himself  by 


OR   CORA    OLENCOE.  213 

watching  the  suspicion  that  lurked  in  the  comers  of  the 
man's  uneasy  eyes. 

We  will  leave  these  two  agreeables  to  agree  or  disagree, 
while  we  join  Captain  Gale, — remarking  by  the  way  that 
O'Dare  knew  he  was  on  the  right  trail,  and  was  going  to 
stick  to  it  at  all  hazards.  He  was  confident  that  the  man 
had  come  from  the  direction  of  Cora  and  Graham.  The 
manner  in  which  he  had  returned  the  horses  evinced  a  de 
sire  and  purpose  to  come  and  go  without  being  seen,  sus 
pected,  or  followed,  or  in  any  way  connected  with  the 
fugitives.  O'Dare  might  have  told  him  squarely  his  own 
purposes,  and  why  he  was  so  fond  of  his  company  all  at 
once,  but  the  detective  judged  correctly  that  the  man  would 
have  put  no  faith  in  him,  but  rather  would  have  considered 
him  a  citizen  of  Creswood,  in  the  interests  of  Oswald 
Huron,  and  in  search  of  the  very  parties  the  finding  of 
whom  would  be  contrary  to  the  interests  or  desires  of  the 
countryman.  But  O'Dare  considered  himself  a  match  for 
any  single  man,  and  now  that  he  had  the  countryman 
within  his  grasp,  he  would  worry  him  into  a  spell  of  sick 
ness  before  he  would  suffer  himself  to  be  outdone,  or  thrown 
from  the  track,  which  he  doubted  not  would  lead  him  just 
where  he  wished  to  go.  "  Ride  on,  my  hearty,"  said 
O'Dare  jocosely  to  himself;  "  I'll  keep  within  hoof  clatter 
of  you  if  I  have  to  starve  for  a  week." 

Captain  Gale  took  advantage  of  his  visit  to  Philadelphia 
to  make  some  exchanges  of  produce  for  merchandise,  which 
would  render  it  necessary  for  him  to  put  into  that  port 
with  the  Whitecap. 

.  Arriving  at  home,  he  found  Creswood  agog.  Innume 
rable  rumors  and  tales  were  upon  the  wing,  out  of  which 
could  be  extracted  nothing  but  confusion,  and  the  single 
fact  that  the  three  horses,  which  had  been  carried  off  by 
the  fugitives,  had  returned,  no  one  knew  how  or  whence, 
and  were  found  quietly  browsing  a  short  distance  from 
the  stables  of  Cliff  Hall,  saddled  and  bridled,  and  in  good 
condition. 

Captain  Gale  also  learned  that  he  himself  was  inextrica 
bly  mixed  up  with  the  events  transpired  and  transpiring 
at  Cliff  Hall,  and  that,  on  account  thereof,  the  citizens  had 
never  been  able  to  determine  whether  they  were  called 


214  TEKEL, 

upon  to  mourn  a  catastrophe,  or  rejoice  over  a  happy  but 
undiscovered  or  unannounced  denouement.  In  answer  to 
a  thousand  and  one  questions,  the  mariner  simply  sug 
gested  to  the  curious  and  overcurious  that  it  would  be 
just  as  well  for  them  to  "belay  their  impatience." 

Captain  Gale  trumpeted  his  crew  from  the  hills,  and 
having  stored  everything  snugly,  set  sail  up  the  coast, 
that  is  to  say,  northward.  Not  being  blessed  with  a  very 
jealous  wife,  he  did  not  hesitate  to  hug  the  shore ;  and 
wherever  he  could  touch  it  he  did  so,  buying  produce  and 
stowing  it  away  in  his  new  and  capacious  Whitecap  ;  for 
he  was  on  his  way  to  Philadelphia  to  meet  his  engage 
ments.  His  progress  was  slow  on  account  of  his  stop 
pages,  and  on  the  second  day,  in  the  afternoon,  he  was  not 
more  than  thirty  miles  by  coastline  from  Gale  Island. 
He.  was  passing  a  section  of  abrupt  shore  wall  against 
which  he  had  never  ventured  to  anchor,  for  it  was  a  bad 
place  for  breakers.  With  his  glass  he  was  examining  the 
bluffs  more  critically  than  he  had  ever  done  before,  with 
the  view  of  determining  whether  there  could  possibly  be 
an  eligible  spot  for  casting  anchor  and  establishing  a  fair- 
weather  trading  post.  While  scanning  the  shore,  he  spied 
a  man  waving  a  flag,  and,  to  all  appearances,  hailing  the 
Whitecap.  Shifting  his  helm,  he  cautiously  ran  the  ves 
sel  in  towards  the  shore,  and  while  he  stood  upon  the 
wind,  a  shouting  conversation  ensued  between  himself 
and  the  man  with  the  flag, — the  flag  being  a  large  hand 
kerchief. 

"  Where  are  you  bound  ?" 

"  Philadelphia." 

"  Can  you  take  a  passenger  and  horse  ?" 

"  Yes.     How's  the  water  next  to  shore  there  ?" 

"  Don't  know ;  but  it  looks  deep.  Send  your  jolly  boat 
ashore  and  take  soundings." 

"  Teach  a  tar  to  tie  a  knot,  will  you  ?  But  where  do 
you  wish  to  go  ?" 

"  Out  of  this  wooden  country." 

"Can't  you  swim  ?" 

"  Yes,  but  I'm  not  in  a  hurry ;  I'll  sail — with  you." 

"Ha!  ha,  h-a!" 

Captain  Gale,  instead  of  anchoring  and  going  ashore  in 


OR   CORA    GLEN  COS.  215 

a  small  boat,  very  carefully  and  very  skillfully  lodged  the 
Whitecap  against  a  natural  pier,  and  to  his  surprise  met — 

"  Mr.  Geologist !" 

"Just  so,"  said  O'Dare.     "Interesting  country  this." 

"Any  dead  horse  around  here — mammoth  bones — or 
old  bird-nests  ?"  asked  Captain  Gale,  with  rather  a  sly 
look  at  the  whilom  geologist,  in  whose  assumed  character 
the  mariner  had  never  put  much  faith. 

"  Nothing  more  ancient  than  coon  tracks  and  pheasant 
wallows,"  answered  O'Dare,  laughing. 

From  far  up  a  pathway,  which,  like  a  straggling  thread, 
led  to  the  very  top  of  the  hills,  there  came  a  pure  moun 
tain  cry,  and  down  the  pathway  sped  a  young  girl,  agile 
as  the  wild  chamois,  and  stopping  not,  until,  with  the 
spring  of  a  squirrel,  she  was  in  the  arms  of  Captain  Gale, 
with  her  own  tender  arms  clasped  tightly  about  his  sturdy 
neck.  It  was  Cora.  She  had  seen  "Whitecap"  in  plain 
letters  on  the  vessel,  and  to  her  who  had  never  been  away 
from  home  until  now  that  she  was  away  under  such 
peculiar  circumstances,  that  name  was  as  sweet  as  a 
babbling  brook  would  be  to  the  traveler  in  some  scorching 
desert. 

Graham  soon  made  his  appearance.  The  landing  of  a 
vessel  at  that  no-port  was  as  unexpected  as  it  was  without 
precedent,  and  all  the  inhabitants,  some  half-a-dozen,  came 
down  to  open  their  eyes  upon  it. 

Hector  O'Dare,  who  had  stuck  to  his  man  like  a  mother 
less  colt  to  a  stray  mare,  or  poor  kin  to  rich  relations,  had 
succeeded  in  finding  Graham  and  Cora.  The  countryman, 
who  eventually  was  made  to  understand  the  incentive  for 
so  much  pertinacity  and  audacity  on  the  part  of  O'Dare, 
got  to  believe  that  the  detective  was  a  capital  fine  fellow 
and  regretted  to  see  him  preparing  to  leave  the  neighbor 
hood  by  sea ;  for  by  land,  he  would  have  gone  half  a  day's 
journey  with  O'Dare,  simply  for  the  pleasure  of  his  com 
pany,  which,  in  the  beginning,  was  so  extremely  irksome 
to  him. 

O'Dare  succeeded  in  getting  his  horse  aboard  of  the 
Whitecap,  after  which  he  and  Captain  Gale  went  apart 
for  a  talk;  for  Cora  had  whispered  something  into  the  cap 
tain's  ear  while  she  hung  about  his  neck,  and  he  felt  will- 


216  TEKEL, 

ing  to  anchor  for  twelve  hours,  if  necessary,  rather  than 
sail  away  empty-minded  upon  the  subject  which  was 
nearest  his  heart. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

THE  time  may  be  remembered  when  Oswald  Huron, 
from  an  east  window  and  through  a  telescope,  saw  Graham 
and  Cora  clasping  hands  and  embracing  in  the  moon. 
For  a  moment  we  must  go  back  to  that  time. 

When  Graham  first  came  to  Cliff  Hall,  Cora  very 
naturally  was  delighted  with  him,  and  he  very  naturally 
was  enchanted  with  so  sweet  and  lovely  a  youn$  cousin. 
There  was  all  the  difference  between  Cora  and  the  girls 
whom  Graham  had  been  accustomed  to  tryst  with,  as 
there  is  between  metropolitan  atmosphere  and  pure  hill 
air ;  and  before  he  was  aware  of  it,  Cora,  to  use  his  own 
words,  had  bewitched  him,  and  he,  with  the  ardor  of  a 
young  lover,  but  the  caution  of  an  old  one,  consequently 
laid  siege  to  her  heart. 

If  it  should  appear  strange  that  Graham,  accustomed 
to  the  fascinations,  dash,  and  spirit  of  fair  and  fashionable 
city  girls,  should  so  readily  have  loved  Cora,  with  her 
simple  dress,  her  woodland  air,  and  her  untrite  talk, 
sweet  and  thrilling  as  passion-murmurs,  but  weighted 
and  depreciated  by  an  element  of  sense,  it  will  appear  still 
more  strange  that  Cora,  to  whom  Graham's  advent  at 
Cliff  Hall  was  like  some  brilliant  meteor  lighting  up  a 
gloomy  vale,  did  not  return  bis  love,  other  than  as  an 
affectionate  cousin.  It  was  in  the  young  girl's  code  that 
first  cousiirs,  with  very  little  more  propriety  than  brothers 
and  sisters,  could  either  love  as  lovers,  or  marry  as  men 
and  women ;  though  a  theoretical  and  paper  code,  never 
yet  put  to  the  test,  might  have  been  pierced  and  torn 
to  pieces  by  Cupid's  amorous  archery.  But  upon  first 
greeting,  Cora  had  given  her  love  to  Graham  unreservedly 
and  tenderly  as  a  cousin,  and  that  love  had  become  fixed 
in  its  character  and  temper,  as  the  waxen  seal  is  fixed 


OR   CORA    GLEN  CO  E.  217 

when  it  is  stamped  and  cooled,  or  as  original  volcanic 
ore  is  fixed  in  its  combinations.  To  change  it,  she  must 
pass  through  fire  and  fusion.  Through  the  fitful  fires  of 
Cliff  Hall,  built  by  Oswald  Huron,  she  was  passing  every 
day,  and  though  her  susceptible  and  exquisite  nature 
never  could  become  tempered  to  them  or  acclimated,  her 
moral  nerve  had  been  strung  to  the  snapping-point,  where 
fortitude,  utterly  discouraged,  subsides  into  supine  hope 
lessness  :  and  into  such  hopelessness  Cora  inevitably  sank 
when  Oswald  Huron  waved  the  murderous  dagger  over 
her  head,  with  a  yet  more  murderous  eye.  Her  own 
father  to  be  her  murderer !  This  was  an  extreme  heat 
which  was  affecting  the  crystallized  cluster  of  principles 
which  formed  her  code,  and  made  her  wail  out  that  she 
was  as  "  desolate  as  a  lost  soul."  Added  to  this  was  the 
apt  and  knightly  urging  of  Graham  that  she  should  make 
his  breast  her  home.  But  heat  does  not  always  melt, — 
it  sometimes  hardens,  as  with  the  process  by  which  the 
diamond  is  said  to  be  produced.  Cora,  with  all  her  past 
life  before  her  eyes,  with  the  scenes  through  which  she 
had  just  passed  standing  out  in  bold  and  fearful  relief,  felt 
that  the  hour  had  struck  when  she  must  choose  between 
bitterness  on  the  one  hand  and  gall  upon  the  other.  An 
overpowering  conflict  in  her  bosom  stagnated  her  blood. 
She  fainted,  and  fell  into  Graham's  arms,  —  those  arms 
which  had  never  yet  held  her  statuesque  sweet  form,  ex 
cept  when  once  upon  a  time,  to  gratify  his  intense  longing, 
and  in  giving  him  a  farewell,  she  had  suffered  him  to 
clasp  her  hand  and  give  her  a  brotherly  good-by  caress, 
all  of  which  demonstrativeness  or  tenderness,  against  the 
chaste  bosom  of  La  Luna,  Oswald  Huron  bad  observed 
from  his  east  window,  through  his  telescope, — and  chuckled 
over. 

When  Cora  recovered  her  consciousness,  her  maid  was 
in  the  room  with  her,  almost  making  a  dead  darling  of  her. 
Graham  also  Avas  anxiously  there. 

"  What  shall  be  done  ?""asked  the  young  man,  as  Cora 
got  up,  looking  like  some  frightened  captured  bird,  which 
would  fain  escape. 

"  It  is  night, — is  it  not  ?"  asked  the  young  girl. 

"Yes,"  said  Graham  ;  "it  is  nine  o'clock." 
19 


218  TEKEL, 

"  Graham,  is  the  world  all  as  hard  as  it  is  here  ?" 

"  No.  There  are  many  places  as  bright  as  this  is  dark, 
and  where  the  vicissitudes  are  as  soft  and  fair  as  here 
they  are  hard  and  gloomy, — if  you  will  but  come  with 
me." 

"Miss  Cora,"  said  the  maid,  "listen  to  the  brave  gen 
tleman,  and  go  with  him.  I  belongs  to  you,  and  I'll  go 
with  you  to  the  world's  end.  This  is  no  place  for  the  like 
of  you." 

"  Aunt  Mag,"  said   Cora  to  the  maid,   "  get  yourself 
,  ready.     Graham,  take  me  to  Mr.  Hope's.     From  there  we 
will  adventure." 

The  maid  was  but  too  willing  to  get  away  from  Cliff 
Hall,  and  was  ready  in  a  trice. 

Cora,  by  her  interview  with  the  old  minister,  was 
strengthened  and  confirmed  in  the  policy  which  she  had 
conceived  to  be  her  duty  to  herself  and  to  others. 

By  the  light  of  stars  the  party  of  three  set  out,  not 
knowing  so  much  where  they  were  going,  as  caring  that 
they  were  leaving  Cliff  Hall  behind  them. 

In  the  silent  night-gloom  of  the  forests  which  they  trav 
ersed,  Graham  renewed  his  entreaties  of  love.  Cora  re 
sisted  him  firmly,  but  with  an  affectionate  consideration 
which  only  served  to  check  him  for  the  while,  and  to 
throttle  instead  of  destroying  his  hopes. 

They  rode  all  night.  Cora  was  chilled  through,  and 
became  sick  with  fatigue  and  cold.  The  road  had  dwindled 
into  a  bridle-path,  and  seemed  about  to  terminate  in  track 
less  woods,  when  the  dawn,  coming  up  from  the  east,  re 
vealed  to  them,  just  ahead,  the  dimpled,  tumbling  sea. 
Approching,  they  came  upon  a  country-house  overlooking 
the  ocean.  Dismounting,  they  were  kindly  and  curiously 
received  and  entertained  by  the  family  in  occupation — 
plain,  honest,  and  surprised-looking  people.  Graham  gave 
out  that  he  and  his  party  were  lost, — whioh  was  as  true 
as  the  Gospel  itself,  for  he  had  not  the  most  remote  idea 
of  his  immediate  whereabouts. 

Resting  a  day  and  night,  Graham,  professing  to  be 
charmed  with  the  surrounding  scenery,  but  secretly  en 
chanted  with  the  romantic  situation  in  which  he  now  found 
himself  with  Cora,  and  not  knowing  or  much  caring  what 


OR   CORA    OLE  NCOS.  219 

better  to  do,  engaged  to  remain  with  the  family  as  long 
as  he  might  find  the  locality  pleasant  and  novel. 

It  is  not  at  all  improbable  that  the  family  suspected  that 
they  were  entertaining  a  Gretna  Green  party,  but  the  fact 
that  Graham  and  Cora  occupied  different  rooms,  and  the 
rather  distinguished  appearance  of  the  young  couple,  to 
gether  with  the  unusual  appendage  of  a  maid,  convinced 
the  country  folk  that  they  were  at  all  events  harboring 
respectability. 

After  a  number  of  days  had  passed,  Graham,  who  be 
came  more  and  more  unwilling  to  terminate  his  direct 
hourly  guardianship  of  Cora,  and  who,  like  Cortes,  was 
willing  to  burn  his  ships,  cut  off  retreat,  and  force  his 
fortunes  to  complete  establishment  or  complete  overthrow 
and  annihilation,  compounded  with  his  landlord  to  deliver 
at  Cliff  Hall  the  three  horses  which  had  been  taken  from 
Oswald  Huron's  stables.  In  order  to  effect  the  clandestine 
delivery  of  the  horses,  Graham  was  compelled  to  confide, 
in  a  measure,  the  situation  of  his  affairs  to  the  landlord, 
and  also  to  confide  to  the  cautious  countryman,  in  fee,  a 
seductive  amount  of  cash. 

O'Dare  was  just  in  time  to  secure  an  unwilling  guide  to 
this  country  spot,  which  was  so  secluded  and  so  little 
thought  of  that,  in  the  general  search  for  the  fugitives,  it 
had  either  been  overlooked  or  ignored. 

It  is  not  necessary  to  give  O'Dare's  experience  with  the 
countryman,  but  many  a  time  has  he  laughed  over  it  as 
one  of  the  raciest  rides  he  ever  enjoyed.  He  outmaneu- 
vered  his  man  at  last,  and  came  upon  the  fugitives.  He 
took  Graham  apart  and  overwhelmed  him  with  the  revela 
tion  of  his  relationship  to  Cora. 

The  feelings  which  were  stirred  up  and  created  in  the 
breast  of  the  young  man  are  beyond  our  power  to  conceive 
or  put  to  pen.  They  were  doubtless  a  mixture  of  every 
thing  akin  to  amazement,  disappointment,  gladness,  re 
gret,  pain,  pleasure,  and  chagrin. 

To  Cora,  this  life-reversing  fact  came  like  a  pregnant 
wonder  out  of  the  very  heavens.  A  troop  of  revolutionary 
emotions  swept  through  her  bosom,  succeeded  by  a  pure 
and  ravishing  delight,  gushing  in  and  out  of  her  heart  and 
singing  its  songs  of  joy.  This,  then,  was  the  glad  thing 


220  TEKEL, 

that  was  to  come  to  her,  of  which  she  had  been  admon 
ished  by  Captain  Gale,  into  whose  stout  arms  she  rushed 
from  the  hill-tops  and  sprang,  agile  with  new  life,  and 
hope,  and  joy. 

We  are  now  brought  up  to  the  time  when  Captain  Gale 
landed  the  Whitecap  at  what  might  be  called  No-port,  and 
Cora  hung  upon  his  neck  like  a  wreath  of  beauty  about 
the  lion's  mane. 

A  few  words  with  O'Dare  and  Graham  apprised  Captain 
Gale  that  Cora,  with  a  veteran  fortitude  and  rocklike  firm 
ness,  had  passed  unharmed  through  the  peculiar  and  ex 
treme  dangers  and  seductions  by  which  she  had  been  beset 
as  by  bristling  bayonets,  clinging,  even  in  the  very  depths 
of  her  despair,  to  the  horns  of  that  altar  on  which  she 
was  accustomed  to  make  sacrifices  of  all  that  she  deemed 
wrong,  and  about  which  she  wove  perennial  garlands  of 
what  she  deemed  goodly  and  right. 

The  conscientious  and  anxious  mariner,  who  keenly  felt 
his  responsibility  in  respect  to  Cora,  was  never  so  relieved, 
exalted,  and  enthused  before.  He  broke  away  after  the 
young  girl,  and  finding  her,  cried  with  fiery  admiration  and 
affection, — 

"  Come,  you  glorious,  steel-built  little  woman,  and  let 
me  press  you  again  to  that  breast  from  which  you  have 
heaved  the  heaviest  cargo  that  ever  weighed  upon  it  1" 
Catching  her  in  his  arms,  he  said,  almost  beside  himself: 
"  God  bless  you  for  a  regular  little  lightning-rod  !" 

Cora  disappeared  into  Captain  Gale's  capacious  embrace 
like  a  bird  into  a  wooded  hill-side,  or  a  cricket  into  the 
breast  wool  of  a  bear.  What  with  his  immense  whiskers, 
his  sailor's  overcoat,  and  the  gauntlets  which  he  held  in  his 
hand,  he  could  hardly  find  Cora  when  he  came  to  release 
her.  He  put  her  down,  and,  looking  at  her  almost  wist 
fully,  with  vigorous  staccato,  he  continued, — 

"You  brave,  gallant,  little  craft; — never  will  you  want 
either  captain  or  crew  as  long  as  my  old  head  is  hot.  I 
could  almost  eat  you  up,  you  sweet  dove." 

Cora,  in  her  joy,  could  not  forbear  laughing  at  the 
stormy  captain,  notwithstanding  she  appreciated  him 
thoroughly.  With  genial  playfulness,  not  unmixed  with 
earnestness,  she  said  to  him,  while  she  looked  up  in  his 
face  with  her  bright,  brave  eyes, — 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE. 

"  Captain  Gale,  somehow  I  feel  that  you  and  I  could 
whip  the  whole  world." 

"  And  then  challenge  the  moon,"  replied  the  captain ; — 
"  I,  with  my  strength,  and  you,  with  your  sense  and 
sweetness." 

Graham  and  O'Dare  now  approached.  Cora  had  recog 
nized  O'Dare  as  the  geologist  of  Creswood,  and  she  was  not 
now  certain  how  to  classify  him.  She  did  not  contradict 
his  character,  however,  and  at  this  moment  addressed  him 
thus: 

"  Mr.  Geologist,  as  you  are  about  to  leave  us,  I  wish  to 
return  to  you  this  pistol  which  you  were  kind  enough  to 
press  upon  me.  I  told  you  then  that  it  was  a  demon,  and 
it  has  proved  itself;  for  it  came  near  to  killing  my  dear, 
firm  friend,  Captain  Gale." 

"It  might  have  been  called  upon  to  kill  as  great  an 
enemy  as  he  is  a  friend,"  answered  O'Dare,  taking  the 
pistol.  In  view  of  Cora's  daily  proximity  to  Jonas  Aiken, 
down  on  the  Larboard  Strand,  O'Dare's  conscience  had 
urged  him  to  do  what  he  had  done  to  add  to  her  security, 
and  the  caution  of  his  mission  had  restrained  him  from  doing 
or  saying  more. 

In  the  midst  of  her  joy,  Cora  could  not  but  feel  sad 
when  she  thought  of  Creswood,  and  of  Cliff  Hall,  from 
which  her  destiny,  as  she  read  it,  would  take  her  away 
forever.  It  was  probably  best,  however,  that  her  happi 
ness  should  be  tempered  somewhat  with  sadness ;  for  she 
was  by  no  means  completely  emancipated  from  her  bond 
age,  and  might  yet  count  her  future  as  uncertain  as  her 
past  bad  been  pent  and  gloomy.  Over  her  head  was  a 
thunder-cloud,  as  black  as  night,  and  from  its  bursting  she 
was  to  be  saved,  or  by  it  be  engulfed.  But  Cora  looked 
upon  her  future  as  secure,  and  her  mind  was  divided 
between  the  future  and  the  past.  She  had  but  few  filial 
ties  to  sunder,  it  is  true ;  and,  outside  of  the  Creswood 
School,  and  the  scope  of  the  Larboard  Strand,  and  the 
bird-singing  forest,  few  pleasant  memories  to  woo  her 
back  into  the  dead  years.  But  her  mind  must  go  and 
dwell  upon  Oswald  Huron,  her  uncle, — once  her  father, — 
and  picture  her  life  and  association  with  him  from  infancy 
almost  up  to  the  present  hour.  Compassion,  and  roused 

19* 


222  TEKEL, 

latent  affection  even,  now  mingled  with  the  horror  which 
his  image  called  up.  Except  upon  a  memorable  and  recent 
occasion,  Oswald  Huron  had  been  fitful,  fierce,  and  ter 
rible,  not  upon  Cora,  but  about  her,  and  within  her  un 
happy  and  horrified  ken  :  she  had  never  felt  personal  fear 
of  him,  for  ever  and  anon  she  had  met  him  upon  a  ques 
tion  of  right  and  wrong,  involving  herself  essentially  and 
directly,  and  he  had  never  failed  to  yield  to  what  he 
denominated  her  "  incorrigible  stubbornness."  Also,  he 
had  often,  when  in  the  mood,  fascinated  her  by  his  brilliant 
conversations,  in  which,  with  her,  as  with  no  other  person, 
he  gave  freedom  to  bis  thoughts  and  fancies,  frequently 
discussing  both  sides  of  a  question,  and  appearing  as  Paul 
and  Saul  at  one  and  the  same  time.  These  conversations, 
or  disquisitions  rather,  swayed  Cora's  mind  as  they  pro 
gressed,  but  when  he  would  finish  and  she  have,  time  to 
reflect,  it  was  rarely  that  she  did  not  discover  a  meta 
physical  unsoundness  in  his  premises  and  deductions. 
He  would  have  no  one  to  talk  to  now,  thought  Cora,  and 
with  all  her  past  experience  with  him  she  could  not  but 
feel  sad  to  leave  him  in  his  solitary  gloom.  Then  there 
was  Creswood,  and  the  strand,  and  the  sea,  with  all  their 
painful,  pensive,  sweet  associations ;  it  would  be  sad  in 
deed  to  leave  them  all  forever.  And  there  was  her  dog, 
and  her  dapple  gray,  each  of  which  she  must  leave  behind. 
A  feeling  of  reproach  came  into  her  heart  as  she  thought 
of  her  faithful  dog,  which,  she  doubted  not,  was  howling 
desolately  for  her  at  that  moment,  or  frantically  snuffing 
the  wind  to  find  out  where  was  his  lost  mistress. 

Graham  wished  to  take  Cora  to  Philadelphia  on  the 
Whitecap  with  Captain  Gale  and  O'Dare,  but  Captain 
Gale  did  not  think  it  a  prudent  step,  for  several  reasons ; 
Cora's  parental  allegiance  not  having  been  established,  or 
determined,  or  defined,  by  law,  admission,  or  otherwise. 
Oswald  Huron  had  already  denounced  the  evidence  of 
Cora's  lineage  as  the  fruit  of  a  conspiracy,  and  there  were 
too  many  circumstances  to  bear  him  out.  It  was  not  at 
all  improbable  that  the  "  conspiracy"  view  of  the  inevita 
ble  controversy  would  appear  the  most  reasonable,  natural, 
and  best  sustained,  to  whatever  judge,  jury,  or  umpire  it 
might  be  submitted.  Oswald  Huron  could  prove  strong 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  223 

probable  motiv*  other  than  for  the  sake  of  justice  and 
legitimacy,  and  long,  unusual  delay — criminal  in  fact — in 
all  the  affiants,  witnesses,  etc.  whose  testimony  he  would 
be  called  upon  to  oppugn.  He  could  make  it  appear  that 
Lawyer  May  had  lived  and  died  his  enemy.  He  had 
himself  driven  Maria  Guthrie  from  Cliff  Hall.  Therefore, 
the  affidavit  of  the  inimical  Maria  Guthrie,  in  the  hand 
writing  of  the  inimical  Lawyer  May,  would  be  of  little  or 
no  weight.  Again  :  he  would  prove  that  Captain  Gale 
was  his  living  enemy ;  that  Amy  Turnbolt  was  Captain 
Gale's  niece ;  that  Captain  Gale  had  written  out  her  affi 
davit,  and  would  doubtless  control  her  as  a  witness.  In 
conclusion :  that  it  was  a  four-handed  conspiracy,  gotten 
up  by  four  persons,  all  friendly  to  each  other,  and  all  in 
imical  to  him  ;  that  the  conspiracy  was  almost  overthrown 
years  ago  by  the  death  of  Lawyer  May,  and  was  only 
now  revived  by  Captain  Gale's  increasing  enmity  and  vin- 
dictiveness,  which  his  late  violent  conduct  at  Cliff  Hall 
would  go  far  to  indicate  and  prove. 

The  master  of  the  Whitecap  was  aware  of  the  weak 
links  in  his  armor,  and  would  do  nothing  more  whatever, 
unless  it  should  be  absolutely  essential  to  the  issue,  by 
which  Oswald  Huron  would  be  furnished  with  additional 
weapons.  He  would,  if  possible,  avoid  any  and  every 
appearance  of  arbitrary  and  vindictive  action.  For  these 
reasons  he  informed  Graham  that  he  could  not  ship  with 
Cora,  on  the  Whitecap,  for  Philadelphia  or  any  other  port. 

"  What  shall  be  done,  then  ?"  inquired  Graham  of  Cap 
tain  Gale  and  O'Dare.  "  She  cannot  go  back  to  Cliff 
Hall.  Nor  can  she  stay  here." 

"Why  can't  she  stay  here  ?"  asked  O'Dare,  as  if  it  was 
the  most  eligible  spot  on  the  map.  Graham  looked  at 
him  in  blank  surprise,  approaching  to  indignation. 

"What!"  said  he,  "remain  in  this  wilderness,  and  in 
such  a  rookery  as  that  up  on  the  hill  I" 

"I  could  take  her,"  said  O'Dare,  paying  very  little  at 
tention  to  Graham's  exclamation  points,  "to  a  place  where 
none  but  an  angel  would  ever  find  her.  But  it  might  not 
be  pleasant, — at  all  events  not  so  pleasant  as  here.  This 
is  a  spot  which  only  a  rambling  fool  would  be  at  all 
likely  to  discover — after  sunrise,"  added  O'Dare,  laugh- 


TEKEL, 

ing  at  Graham ;  for  Graham  had  discovered  it,  but  before 
sunrise.  "  Therefore  it  is  a  place  of  security.  When  we  go 
to  Philadelphia  (Captain  Gale  and  I — not  you  and  your 
sister), the  Whitecap,  on  her  return-trip,  if  the  sea  is  in 
as  good  a  humor  for  landing  as  it  is  now,  can  bring  you 
everything  but  society  and  a  billiard-saloon  to  make  this 
a  very  agreeable  place  —  a  very  charming  place,"  added 
O'Dare,  who  saw  that  Graham  didn't  relish  the  prospect 
at  all.  "Your  father  will  be  consulted,  and  whatever 
may  be  determined  upon  will  be  acted  upon.  But  until 
you  get  further  orders, — from  head-quarters, — as  the  agent 
of  your  father,  I  order  you,  Mr  Graham,  to  remain  with 
your  sister,  here  " 

"  And  I,"  said  Captain  Gale,  "  as  an  old  friend  of  Cora's, 
and  one  well  versed  in  the  history  of  the  matter  in  hand, 
advise  you  to  obey  orders." 

The  reader  will  understand,  if  it  has  not  been  previously 
intimated,  that  Cora  was  not  present  during  this  confer 
ence.  She  had  gone  on  board  of  the  Whitecap  to  inves 
tigate  what,  to  her,  was  all  but  a  novelty. 

Graham  scratched  his  head :  not  that  he  was  head- 
strong,  but  he  was  headed  off.  Had  Cora  remained  his 
sweetheart,  he  would  have  been  delighted  at  the  prospect 
of  continued  love-making  while  swinging  in  the  vines  of 
the  deep  woods,  sitting  on  the  margins  of  autumn  brooks, 
or  cosily  ensconced  by  a  country  fire,  and  talking  by  the 
light  of  a  tallow  candle.  But  now  that  she  had  become  his 
sister,  he  "  wanted  to  go  home,"  and  to  take  her  with 
him; 

"  For  there  he  had  sweethearts 
And  here  he  had  none." 

He  made  another  effort  for  liberty,  which  was  not  en 
tirely  without  result. 

"  When  I  first  came  to  Cliff  Hall,"  said  he,  "it  struck 
me  that  my  Uncle  Oswald  was  very  slightly  deranged  in 
his  mind.  I  watched  him  closely,  and  my  first  impression, 
instead  of  being  eradicated,  was  deepened  by  continual  as 
sociation  with  him.  It  is  now,  and  has  been,  my  deliberate 
opinion  that  his  mind  is  deranged,  and  that  it  is  becoming 
more  so  very  gradually.  He  is  fitful,  and  at  times  as  un- 


OR   CORA   GLENCOE. 

reasonably  domineering  and  dangerous  as  the  devil.  To 
put  ray  sister  again  in  his  fierce  charge,  shall  neither  be 
done  nor  risked,  Mr.  Hector  O'Dare  to  the  contrary  not 
withstanding,"  and  Graham  bowed  to  the  Expert,  who  re 
turned  his  bow,  smilingly.  "  To  remain  here,  is  to  risk 
just  what  I  wish  to  avoid,  and  what  I  will  take  steps  to 
avoid,  whenever  my  reason  urges  me  to  do  so." 

"  Your  views  with  reference  to  your  uncle's  mind  are 
not  without  foundation,"  said  Captain  Gale.  "They  are, 
to  review  his  life  and  acts,  almost  an  inevitable  and  se 
quential  conclusion,  and  would  make  palliating  plea  in  be 
half  of  his  heart,  governed  as  it  may  be  by  a  disordered 
head.  But  I  can  suggest  nothing  better  at  present  than 
for  you  to  remain  here  with  Cora.  What  say  you,  Mr. 
O'Dare  ?" 

"  I  still  adhere  to  my  first  expression — that  it  is  best  for 
Mr.  Graham" — (Graham  did  not  like  to  be  so  addressed  or 
referred  to,  and  O'Dare  had  been  malicious  enough  to  dis 
cover  it ;  but  he  thought  the  young  man  had  just  a  trifle  too 
much  style,  and  he  was  after  dampening  the  starch  in  him 
a  bit) — "that  it  is  best  for  Mr.  Graham,"  repeated  O'Dare, 
a  little  emphatically,  "to  remain  here  with  his  sister,  until 
you  and  I  can  run  up  to  Philadelphia,  see  Mr.  Graham's 
father,  give  him  our  information  and  views,  let  him  decide, 
then  act.  It  will  take  but  a  few  days,  and  there  is  no 
danger  of  your  being  molested  in  this  serene  and  lovely 
spot.  But,  if  you  are  unearthed  by  your  uncle,  take  your 
sister  out  of  Maryland  and  not  into  Pennsylvania,  but — let 
me  see — here,  to  this  address,"  and  O'Dare  wrote  on  a  card, 
with  a  pencil,  the  address  of  Mrs.  Linda  Boyd,  in  the  city 
of  New  York,  and  commended  Graham  to  the  acquaintance 
and  friendship  of  Cassel  Rapid,  in  whom,  to  use  his  own 
words,  he  had  more  confidence  than  in  any  other  young 
blood  that  ever  wore  high-heeled  boots.  "  This  matter  of 
States,  and  your  locality,  may  make  some  difference  in  the 
end.  I  don't  assert  that  it  will,  but  I  am  like  you, — tak 
ing  all  advantages  and  no  risks.  Therefore  let  the  respon 
sibility  of  your  flight  from  Cliff  Hall  continue  to  rest  upon 
you  alone,  or  upon  you  and  your  sister.  Do  not  mix  your 
father  up  in  it,  for  he  will  doubtless  be  a  prime  party  to  a 
lawsuit.  Don't  mix  up  Captain  Gale  in  it,  for  he  will 


226  TEKEL, 

doubtless  be  a  prime  witness  in  a  lawsuit.  If  you  go 
from  here  to  your  father's  house  in  Philadelphia,  on  the 
Whitecap  with  Captain  Gale,  you  will  be  doing  both  of 
these  prohibited  things  at  a  single  effort.  Now,  sir,  that's 
official,  and  though  I  am  paid  for  it,  it  is  none  the  less 
friendly.  It's  good  advice  too,  and  if  you  have  half  the 
sense  which  your  young  sister  has,  you'll  take  it." 

"  You  are  full  candid,"  said  Graham,  laughing,  "  and 
business-like  also.  I  suppose  I  shall  have  to  submit." 

"  Do  not  allow  yourself  to  feel  as  though  you  had  sub 
mitted,  but  simply  as  if  you  had  adopted,"  said  O'Dare, 
blandly. 

"  See  how  he  garlands  the  points  of  his  bayonets !"  ex 
claimed  Graham,  turning  good-humoredly  to  Captain  Gale. 
"  O'Dare,  you  would  make  a  successful  tyrant— inducing 
your  vassals  to  shout  '  adoption '  instead  of  murmuring 
'submission.'" 

"  I'd  take  some  of  the  overdone  out  of  you,"  replied 
O'Dare,  laughing.  "  But  make  out  your  bill  of  wants,  and 
I  will  file  it  with  your  father.  He  can  send  the  articles 
down  by  the  Whitecap — that  is,  if  the  weather  will  per 
mit  the  vessel  to  put  in  here,  and  if  it  don't,  you  can  rough 
it  awhile — it  won't  hurt  you." 

"  I  wouldn't  mind  roughing  it  if  I  had  company,"  said 
the  young  man,  lugubriously. 

"  What  better  company  do  you  want  than  your  sister, 
I'd  like  to  know  !  She  has  not  expended  a  breath  upon 
complaint,  and  you  great  strip  of  a  fellow  must  needs 
whine  around  because  you  have  to  live  a  few  days  in  the 
garden  of  Eden,  as  our  first  parents  did  !" 

"  O'Dare,"  said  Graham,  "  you  have  no  more  sympathy 
than  an  oyster.  What  you  can  do  best  is  to  open  your 
mouth,  for  you  have  neither  heart  nor  conscience.  But 
come  ;  we  will  board  the  Whitecap,  get  a  sheet  of  paper, 
and  arrange  the  list  of  those  possible  things  which  this 
garden  of  Eden  sadly  lacks.  I  do  not  think  that  I  could 
find  even  the  forbidden  tree  hereabouts." 

"  If  you  could,  you  would  need  no  tempting  Eve  to  in 
duce  you  to  partake  of  the  fruit  thereof." 

On  board  the  Whitecap,  Graham  sat  down  and  penciled 
a  column  of  wants  which  occupied  an  entire  page  of  letter- 


OR   CORA   GLENCOE.  227 

paper.  O'Dare  took  it  and  looked  over  it,  and  then  opened 
upon  Graham  with  a  laugh  which  no  one  would  have  im 
agined  was  in  him. 

"What's  the  matter  now  ?"  asked  Graham.  "  Are  my 
very  wants  to  be  the  subject  of  your  ridicule  and  horse- 
head  mirth  ?" 

"  What  will  your  sister  and  her  maid  do  for  clothes,  I 
wonder,  while  you  are  smoking  up  these  boxes  of  cigars, 
and  reading  these  unillustrative  novels  ?"  asked  the  de 
tective.  "  Here,  take  this  sheet  to  Miss  Cora  Glencoe, 
and  let  her  specify  her  wants.  You  have  only  brains  for 
yourself." 

Graham,  somewhat  crestfallen,  went  in  search  of  Cora. 
When  he  returned,  O'Dare  took  the  sheet,  on  which  the 
young  girl  had  penciled  her  simple  wants,  and  looked 
over  it. 

"  Your  sister  Cora  is  worth  two  of  you,"  said  O'Dare, 
with  provoking  sincerity. 

"  That  is  doubtless  true ;  but  I  am  as  good  as  any  other 
man,"  replied  Graham,  a  little  nettled  at  the  detective's 
persistent  strictures. 

"  Miss  L.,  on  Chestnut  Street,  didn't  think  so,  one  night, 
when  you  would  kiss  her,  and  she  wouldn't." 

"  What  the  devil  do  you  know  about  that  ?"  demanded 
Graham,  with  a  look  of  great  surprise  and  a  conscious 
blush  of  detection. 

"  I  know  every  door-step  lip-sucker  and  rich-daddy 
swell  between  the  Atlantic  and  the  Alleghanies,  but  I 
know  of  only  one  who  can  kiss  Miss  L.,  and  you  are  not 
that  festive  fellow  by  a  mile  or  more,"  and  O'Dare  stared 
into  Graham's  face  with  all  the  encroaching  impudence  of 
a  grown-up  gamin. 

"  Captain  Gale,"  pleaded  Graham,  "  sail  away  with  this 
man — he  knows  too  much  ;  and  be  careful  to  keep  him  in 
the  waist  of  your  vessel,  for  if  you  ever  let  him  get  to 
the  one  side  or  the  other,  the  weight  of  his  knowledge 
will  capsize  your  craft.  He  carries  a  heavy  head,  I  can 
tell  you." 

"Well,  Cora,"  observed  Graham,  as  the  Whitecap  dis 
appeared  around  the  northern  coast,  "  what  shall  we  do  to 


228 

kill  old  Tempus  ?  I  feel  as  if  I  was  treed  by  an  overflow, 
or  blocked  by  a  snow-storm." 

"  In  such  an  event  we  should  have  to  wait  for  the  flood 
to  assuage  or  the  snow  to  melt;  and  I  do  not  know  what 
better  we  can  do  now  than  to  wait  patiently,  or  impa 
tiently,  if  you  please,"  replied  Cora,  with  a  smile  of  forti 
tude. 

It  was  some  time  before  Graham  could  thoroughly  undo 
his  heart  of  lover  and  set  it  up  properly  as  that  of  an  af 
fectionate  brother.  He  would  toy  with  Cora's  abundant 
brown  hair,  and  kiss  her,  now  that  she  suffered  or  wel 
comed  it,  oftener  than  he  ever  kissed  his  two  young  sisters 
at  home.  Several  times  he  told  Cora  that  he  wished  that 
his  or  her  name  had  been  anything  else  but  Huron.  He 
talked  to  her  of  her  parents,  and  assured  her  that  she 
would  love  them, — and  of  her  two  sisters,  Augusta  and 
Gertrude, — Gussie  and  Gertie, — who  were  both  younger 
than  Cora,  and  very  pretty,  but  not,  said  Graham,  "so 
lovely  as  you."  Gussie  had  her  beaus,  and  wore  long 
dresses;  but  Gertie  was  in  short  dresses,  was  a  school- 
miss,  and  although  she  could  get  beaus,  her  mother  would 
not  let  her  have  any,  which  was  very  cruel  on  little  Ger 
tie, — and  so  Graham  would  talk,  by  the  hour. 

The  Whitecap  appeared  to  be  in  no  haste  to  return, 
and  the  days  were  becoming  very  tedious  and  anxious, 
not  only  to  Graham  but  to  Cora  also ;  for  they  had  no 
books  to  read,  and  nothing  in  the  world  to  do  ;  and  their 
"  hotel,"  though  a  kind  and  willing  one,  was  not  comfort 
able,  and  could  not  be  made  so  with  the  means  at  hand. 

It  was  a  blustery,  uneven  day,  when  the  sea  was  chop 
ping,  and  the  air  was  raw,  that  the  Whitecap  again 
appeared  in  front  of  No-port,  but  not  daring  to  lay  along 
side  of  the  rock-built  pier.  Graham  and  Cora,  as  they 
looked  upon  the  vessel  where  it  stood,  apparently  still, 
about  three  hundred  yards  from  shore,  were  extremely 
anxious  to  communicate  with  it,  but  to  do  so  seemed  to 
them  impossible.  As  they  watched  it  intently,  they  saw 
a  small  boat  lowered  from  the  davits,  and  come  toward 
shore,  like  a  shell  tossed  at  will- by  the  irregular  and 
dangerous  waves.  They  ran  down  to  the  verge  of  the 
sea. 


OR   CORA'GLENCOE.  229 

"  Stand  by  there,"  shouted  Captain  Gale,  "  and  catch 
the  tow-line  when  I  heave  it  to  you." 

Graham  stood  ready  to  assist  the  landing.  As  Cora 
looked  upon  the  dancing,  rearing,  and  dipping  boat,  her 
bosom  panted  with  apprehension,  and  she  wondered  how 
so  frail  a  thing  could  live  among  those  domineering,  treach 
erous,  and  collapsing  waters.  But  there  was  an  iron 
hand  and  fearless  eye  at  the  helm,  and  skillful  arms  at 
the  oars. 

"  Look  out  for  the  lead,"  said  Captain  Gale ;  "  don't  let 
it  strike  you  ;"  and,  with  one  hand  at  the  helm,  he  threw 
the  end-loaded  hawser  ashore.  Graham  caught  the  rope 
and  braced  himself  while  the  mariners  actively  made  the 
boat  secure,  and  in  a  few  minutes  discharged  the  cargo. 
Captain  Gale  came  ashore,  shook  hands,  delivered  a  pack 
age  of  letters,  and  said, — 

"  I  have  no  time  now  to  answer  questions.  Your  friends 
are  all  well.  These  letters  will  advise  you.  I  wouldn't 
have  stopped  here  for  a  thousand  dollars.  The  sea  is 
getting  ugly,  and  ten  minutes  lost  time  may  send  me 
and  the  Whitecap  to  Davy  Jones's  locker.  Cora,  use 
your  own  head,  and  don't  be  persuaded  by  your  brother's 
impatience.  Good-by !"  And  Captain  Gale,  after  a  peril 
ous  short  passage,  again  reached  the  Whitecap,  and 
trimmed  his  sails  for  a  speedy  run  to  the  safe  anchorage  at 
Gale  Island. 

Graham  divined,  from  the  trunks,  boxes,  etc.  which 
were  put  ashore,  that  he  was  doomed  to  stagnate  yet 
longer  in  this  next  to  nothing  of  a  place. 

In  the  package  of  letters  Cora  found  four  —  one  from 
each  member  of  the  Huron  family  in  Philadelphia — ad 
dressed  to  herself;  the  contents  of  which  we  leave  the 
reader  to  imagine. 

A  letter  from  Neville  Huron  to  Graham  informed  the 
latter  of  a  decision  arrived  at  between  Captain  Gale, 
O'Dare,  and  the  writer,  that  Graham  should  remain  with 
Cora  where  he  was,  until  the  father  could  go  down  to 
Creswood  and  have  an  interview  with  his  brother  Oswald, 
with  the  view  of  making  an  effort  to  adjust  the  claim  to 
Cora  Glencoe  in  an  amicable,  quiet,  and  brotherly  manner. 
If  he  failed,  he  would  then  advise  Cora  and  Graham  what 

20 


230  TEKEL< 

to  do.  If  he  succeeded,  Cora  would  be  brought  imme 
diately  home  to  Philadelphia. 

"His  mission  will  be  a  failure,"  said  Cora. 

"  I  have  no  doubt  of  it  in  the  world,"  replied  Graham. 

As  Graham  unpacked  a  number  of  boxes  of  cigars,  a 
lot  of  novels,  and  a  variety  of  other  tranquilizers,  he  was 
encouraged  to  hope  that  he  might  possibly  live  through 
it  all. 

Cora  was  stirred  with  new  emotions  and  affections,  as 
she  read  the  yearning  letters  of  her  parents,  and  the 
warm-hearted  words  of  her  young  sisters.  She  was  im 
patient  to  speed  to  them,  but  from  what  she  had  gathered 
of  her  peculiar  situation,  she  could  not  but  fear  that  there 
was  a  high  wall  to  be  overgone  before  she  should  receive 
the  heritage  of  love  and  peace  which  awaited  her  on  the 
other  side. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

NEVILLE  HURON  arrived  at  Cliff  Hall.  His  brother 
Oswald  met  him  calmly,  but  somewhat  sternly,  saying, — 

"  Neville,  I  divine  what  brings  you,  a  stranger,  into  my 
country.  You  may  as  well  take  your  stirrup-cup,  and  set 
out  on  your  return-journey." 

"  Not  until  I  have  had  a  talk  with  you,  Oswald,"  an 
swered  the  brother,  mildly. 

"  Yery  well :  say  your  say.  I  will  answer  it  all  with  a 
single  word,  of  two  letters." 

"  I  came  down  to  see  you  about  Cora." 

"  True  enough;  but  what  have  you  to  do  with  Cora,  my 
own  child  ?" 

"  Oswald,  she  is  not  your  child,  but  mine." 

"I  presume  you  can  prove  what  you  say,"  replied 
Oswald  Huron,  sarcastically. 

"  I  have  both  seen  and  heard  the  proof,  and  I  am  thor 
oughly  convinced,"  answered  the  brother. 

"  I  have  both  seen  and  heard  the  proof,  and  I  am  thor 
oughly  not  convinced,  "rejoined  Oswald  Huron,  who,  upon 
this  occasion,  maintained  an  extraordinary  calmness.  "  Ne- 


OR   CORA    OLENCOE  231 

ville,  you  may  strive  in  vain  to  change  my  purpose,  which  is 
firm  and  firmly  rooted,  and  based  upon  the  knowledge  and 
conviction  that  there  is,  and  for  years  has  been,  a-systematic 
and  vindictive  conspiracy  to  rob  me  of  my  inestimable  little 
girl,  my  only  child.  Do  you  think,"  said  he,  in  a  deep, 
thrilling  voice,  which  told  of  the  electric  power  and  pent- 
up  fury  which  slumbered  beneath  his  calm  exterior,  "  that 
I  will  submit  to  be  plundered  of  my  child  ? — of  the  only 
sunbeam  in  all  the  passage  of  my  lonely  life? — of  the  only 
thing  I  love  ? — of  the  helm  which  guides  me  ? — of  the  stan 
chion  which  sustains  me  from  overthrow? — of  the  star 
which  woos  me  from  hell  ?  NEVER,  sir,  will  I  counte 
nance  your  claim,  or  countenance  you  as  a  brother,  so  long 
as  you  make  such  a  claim !  I  bid  you  defiance,  and  all 
your  backers.  I  have  anticipated  everything,  and  am  pre 
pared  to  meet  you  and  your  conspirators.  Bring  this  mat 
ter,  if  you  please,  into  a  court  of  judicature.  I  will  meet 
you  there.  And  all  who  are  engaged  in  it  I  will  prose 
cute  and  hunt  to  the  uttermost,  for  this  piracy  upon  me. 
Now,  sir,  abandon  your  wild  demand  and  wilder  convic 
tions,  or  leave  my  premises,  for  I  will  not  brook  the  com 
pany  of  bandit  or  brother  who  would  rob  me  of  my  child." 

Nothing  which  Neville  Huron  could  urge  had  the  least 
softening  influence  upon  his  brother  Oswald,  and  the  Phila- 
delphian  left  Cliff  Hall,  conscious  that  Greek  would  be  met 
by  Greek  in  the  coming  strange  and  unhappy  contest  for  a 
daughter. 

It  was  evident  to  the  elder  Huron,  after  his  interview 
with  his  brother  Oswald,  that  should  he  ever  recover  his 
daughter  it  must  necessarily  be  done  by  legal  process;  for 
there  was  left  him  but  the  alternative  of  appealing  from 
the  personal  fiat  of  his  brother  to  the  master  voice  of  Pub 
lic  Justice.  And  in  those  days  Justice  did  actually  exist, 
and  had  a  voice,  and  was  sufficiently  well  bred  to  speak 
when  spoken  to.  Neville  Huron  lost  no  time  in  address 
ing  himself  to  it. 

It  is  not  our  purpose  to  furnish  the  minutes  or  follow 
the  forms  of  a  trial  between  meum  et  tuum  in  a  Maryland 
court ;  for  we  are  free  to  confess  that  we  could  not  draw 
up  even  a  precis  of  the  legal  proceedings  involving  and 
evolving  Cora  Glencoe's  destiny,  so  accurate  and  techni- 


232  TEKEL, 

cally  true  to  the  then  current  usage  as  to  withstand  the 
critical  glances  of  the  gentlemen  at  the  bar. 

The  contemplated  struggle  for  the  parentage  and  pos 
session  of  a  child  was  probably  without  precedent  in  all 
Maryland,  certainly  so  in  the  Creswood  district ;  and,  in 
those  strict  and  lawlike  times,  it  was  with  no  little  hesita 
tion  and  consultation  that  the  jurisdiction  was  agreed  upon, 
and  that  the  cause  was  determined  to  be  tried  before  the 
district  court  within  whose  commission  was  included  the 
neighborhood  of  Creswood.  It  was  also  determined  that 
the  head  upon  the  bench,  and  not  a  jury,  should  be  the 
umpire. 

Although  the  whereabouts  of  the  daughter,  for  the  pos 
session  of  whom  the  suit  was  about  to  be  instituted,  was, 
to  one  side  of  the  controversy,  and  apparently  to  both,  as 
uncertain  as  became  that  of  the  waggish  ass  which  kicked 
up  its  heels  and  ran  away  while  two  claimants  were  dispu 
ting  and  fighting  for  its  ownership,  all  such  minor  difficul 
ties  were  eventually  reconciled,  by  pliancy,  emergency,  and 
agreement,  to  a  regular  legal  process ;  the  personal  presence 
of  Cora  being  deemed  not  necessary  to  the  integrity  and 
symmetry  of  the  suit. 

The  session  of  the  court  would  be  held  in  the  county 
town,  not  many  miles  from  Creswood. 

Oswald  Huron  went  up  to  Baltimore,  and  engaged  the 
wisest  men  of  the  city. 

Neville  Huron,  against  the  remonstrances  of  O'Dare,  ob 
tained  his  counsel  from  Philadelphia.  "Your  brother  will 
have  the  advantage  of  you,"  had  said  O'Dare,  "for  the  Bal 
timore  lawyers  will  be  fighting  on  their  own  dung-hill,  and 
are  of  course  more  familiar  with  the  laws,  forms,  usages, 
etc.  of  Maryland  than  are  the  Philadelphians  ;  and  in  the 
country  courts  there  is  always  a  prejudice  against  im 
ported  lawyers ;  or  if,  in  the  beginning,  there  is  not,  the 
home  lawyei-s  will  see  to  it  that,  in  the  end,  there  will  be." 
Notwithstanding  this  shrewd  advice,  Neville  Huron,  in 
some  things  obstinate,  in  others  weak,  retained  his  chosen 
counsel  without  addition  or  subtraction. 

The  legal  gentlemen  engaged  to  conduct  the  Huron 
war  came  down  to  Creswood  in  advance  of  the  session  of 
the  court,  and  almost  bedeviled  the  people  out  of  their 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  233 

wits  by  the  pertinacity  with  which  they  elicited,  fished  up, 
and  minutely  gathered  the  history  of  Creswood  and  of 
every  person  whose  residence  there  was  of  fifteen  or  more 
years'  duration. 

Some  of  the  old  women  were  looking  for  the  millennium 
to  succeed  this  avalanche  of  curiosity  and  investigation. 
They  were  confident  that  these  black-clad  investigators 
were  searching  for  and  gathering  up  data  by  which  to 
separate  the  tares  from  the  true  seeds,  and  the  manner  in 
which  not  a  few  good  old  souls  avoided  committing  them 
selves  was  irresistibly  laughable. 

The  children,  on  the  other  hand,  were  of  the  opinion  that 
Christmas  was  at  hand  before  its  time,  which  impression 
was  due  to  the  ready  dimes  which  the  new-comers  threw 
among  them  from  day  to  day. 

There  never  was  such  a  to-do  in  Creswood  before.  You 
could  not  hear  an  undisputed  assertion  about  anything 
whatever,  but  you  could  hear  a  disputed  assertion  about 
almost  everything.  Old  men  looked  at  the  skies  and  bab 
bled  of  fearful  things.  Old  women  looked  down  into  wells 
and  droned  out  tales  in  the  chimney-corners.  The  ghost  of 
Jonas  Aiken  had  been  seen  working  by  moonlight  at  the 
crevasse  in  the  bluff.  And  the  whole  neighborhood  was  on 
the  qui  vive  for  Terrors.  All  this,  because  of  a  few  black- 
clad,  distinguished-looking  personages,  who  were  nosing 
about  Creswood,  going  in  and  out  at  Cliff  Hall,  visiting 
Gale  Island,  interviewing  the  elders  of  the  people,  taking 
notes,  citing  witnesses,  et  cetera.  About  one-half  of  the 
adults  of  Creswood  were  summoned  as  witnesses,  direct  and 
indirect.  Although  old  Mr.  Grain  was  painfully  desirous  of 
gathering  his  late  crops,  the  trial  was  at  hand,  and  he  must 
go  to  court.  Grandmother  Feathers  had  some  fall  broods  of 
chickens  which  required  her  constant  attention,  but  she  too 
must  go  to  court.  Old  Aunt  Hives  wanted  to  prepare  her 
bees  for  the  cold  weather,  but  she  also  must  go  to  court. 
And  so  it  was,  that  Creswood  issued  out  in  the  morning 
and  swarmed  in  at  night,  with  ceaseless  gabble  and  won 
derful  speculation. 

Meantime,  Graham  Huron  and  Cora  were  captured  by 
officers  of  the  law,  and  brought  back  to  Creswood.  Gra- 

20* 


234  TEKEL, 

ham  was  arrested  as  a  horse-thief,  and  bonded  to  appear 
before  a  criminal  court.  Cora  was  arrested  and  detained 
as  a  stray  and  fugitive  minor,  but,  much  to  the  relief  of 
her  friends,  Oswald  Huron  sent  her  to  Mr.  Hope's,  to  re 
main  there,  subject  to  his  demand,  the  minister  pledging 
himself  to  be  responsible  for  her. 

Oswald  Huron's  native  fury  seemed  to  have  been  trans 
formed  into  cunning  and  prudence.  He  did  nothing  to  pre 
judice  his  cause,  and  many  things  to  strengthen  it.  The 
ability  and  calmness  exhibited  by  him  excited  the  wonder 
and  admiration  of  numbers  who  had  aforetime  feared  or 
condemned  him.  For  years  he  had  been  so  little  seen  by 
the  people  of  Creswood  that  they  had,  in  their  imagina 
tions,  invested  him  with  a  mystery,  a  habit,  and  an  ap 
pearance  not  his  own.  Tall,  dark,  well  dressed,  dignified, 
alert,  and  even  bland  on  this  occasion,  the  deep  purpose 
which  brought  him  out  seemed  to  have  given  a  royal 
power  to  his  magical  eye,  symmetry  to  his  mind,  and  rea 
son,  bordering  upon  forbearance,  to  his  actions.  As  an 
oak,  firmly  rooted  in  the  soil,  he  appeared  to  think  himself 
established  in  his  right,  proof  against  overthrow,  and  mon 
arch  of  the  field.  He  appeared  confidently  to  feel  that  he 
could  reach  out  his  hand  and  crush,  as  with  an  iron  grasp, 
all  who  might  dare  to  be  inimical  to  the  legitimate  order 
of  his  house.  He  seemed  actuated  and  sustained  by  mo 
tives  honorable,  sincere,  and  deeper  than  his  ordinary  sea 
of  life.  Men  who  had  felt  the  weight  of  his  cane  about 
their  shoulders,  came  around  him  and  even  courted  his  re 
cognition  now, — licking  the  hand  that  smote  them  at  will, 
as  hounds  fawning  at  the  feet  of  a  hard  but  apparently 
relenting  master.  To  all  who  did  not  stand  entirely  aloof 
from  him,  Oswald  Huron  acted  most  graciously  and  grace 
fully,  and  his  action  was  the  more  charming  and  friend- 
winning  because  of  its  being  so  unexpected,  such  an  agree 
able  surprise,  and  so  contradictory  of  all  his  former  ways 
and  repute.  His  bearing  went  -far  to  confute  the  many 
tales  which  were  told  of  his  ungovernable  temper,  his 
wrathful  violence,  and  his  haughty,  ruthless  enmity  and  vin- 
dictiveness  ;  for  what  would  be  more  apt  to  rouse  his  bit 
ter  fury  and  pour  it  out  red  hot  than  a  persistent  effort  by 
his  personal  enemies  to  pillage  his  house  of  its  lovely  child 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  235 

and  only  light, — the  only  light  whose  ray  seemed  ever  to 
have  reached  his  own  dark  soul? 

Several  days  were  devoted  to  the  examination  of  a 
cloud  of  witnesses,  for  and  against ;  establishing  character 
here,  and  destroying  it  there  ; — and  more  neighborhood  and 
family  secrets,  scandal,  odds,  ends,  and  intervals  of  speech, 
and  misgathered  testimony  were  soon  upon  the  wing,  than 
it  was  possible  for  the  atmosphere  to  sustain  or  the  ear 
to  register. 

Captain  Gale  came  home  to  the  island  each  night,  look 
ing  as  if  some  heated  action  had  spared  him  for  a  moment, 
or  as  if  the  angry  seas  had  pursued  and  battled  with  him 
to  his  very  door.  He  felt  that  he,  chiefly,  was  responsible 
for  all  this  turmoil,  and  would  be  forever  accountable  to 
Cora,  her  friends,  his  own  strict  and  sleepless  conscience, 
and  to  a  yet  more  sleepless  Heaven,  should  the  struggle 
in  which  he  was  now  engaged  result  in  the  calamity  of 
defeat. 

"  Carroll,"  said  Captain  Gale,  coming  home  one  night 
more  anxious  than  ever,  "you  saw  how  things  went  this 
morning  while  you  were  there.  Get,  from  your  library, " 
the  books  which  are  listed  on  this  slip  of  paper,  and  bring 
them  to  court  with  you  to-morrow.  Our  lawyers  need 
them  ;  for  every  three  minutes  there  is  a  controversy  about 
what  is  admissible  testimony  and  what  is  not.  They  also 
need  some  one  to  point  them  to  precedents,  references,  and 
such  like,  and  keep  them  clear  on  numberless  little  points 
in  the  Maryland  practice,  with  which  they  are  not  fa 
miliar.  You  must  go  inside  of  the  bar  to-morrow,  and 
sit  with  them." 

"  How  is  it  going,  uncle  ?"  asked  Carroll. 

"  Like  the  sea  when  the  wind  suddenly  shifts  against 
the  waves  and  chops  them  to  pieces;  —  rough  enough. 
Oswald  Huron  has  impeached  all  the  testimony,  so  far, 
and  has  raked  up  and  perverted  the  truth  of  everything 
that  has  transpired  in  Creswood  for  twenty-five  years, 
to  bear  him  out.  If  that  man  had  a  good  heart  in  his 
breast,  I  do  not  know  of  his  equal  anywhere.  His 
brother  is  no  match  for  him,  and  is  greatly  dispirited.  I 
believe  he  even  begins  to  doubt  that  Cora  is  his  child." 

"  Have  you  been  examined  yet  ?"  asked  Carroll. 


236  TEKEL, 

"No.  They  are  reserving  me,  they  say,  for  a  center 
shot ;  but  how  I  am  to  reach  the  center  for  them  is  clearer 
to  them  than  it  is  to  me,  for  my  testimony  is  necessarily 
indirect.  But  I  have  many  things  to  say  which  I  trust 
will  put  a  different  color  on  the  case.  If  I  am  discredited, 
however,  I  fear  the  struggle  is  hopeless,  unless  Maria 
Guthrie  can  be  found  and  produced  in  court;  —  but  the 
finding  of  her,  in  time  for  good,  is  an  impossibility.  No 
body  knows  where  she  is,  or  whether  she  is  dead  or  alive. 
Oswald  Huron  has  nullified  her  affidavit,  which  was  but 
bastard  testimony  at  best,  and  has  turned  it  to  his  own 
advantage.  He  accepted  it  as  a  genuine  document,  but 
.attacked  and  ridiculed  it  as  a  contrivance  of  your  father, 
in  whose  handwriting  it  is,  and  succeeded  in  making  a 
very  unfavorable  impression  in  regard  to  your  father's 
memory." 

Carroll  sprang  up.  He  was  very  fiery,  even  to  un 
due  haste.  With  a  flashing  eye,  he  said, — 

"  It  then  becomes  my  first  duty,  if  Maria  Guthrie  is  in 
the  world,  to  seek  her  out ;  and  whether  I  find  her  soon  or 
late,  to  purge  from  my  father's  memory  the  venom  of  this 
Oswald  Huron.  If  I  cannot  do  that,  I'll  stop  his  breath 
by  letting  his  blood." 

"  Sit  down,  Carroll,"  said  Captain  Gale.  "  This  is  not 
the  time  for  such  action.  You  will  need  both  money  and 
the  assistance  of  a  man  like  Hector  O'Dare,  if  you  ever 
prosecute  a  search  for  Maria  Guthrie." 

"  Uncle,"  said  Carroll,  "  I  have  the  money.  You  know 
I've  not  been  idle  since  I  could  work.  I've  done  every 
thing  that  a  young  lawyer  can  do.  I've  been  a  two-bit 
attorney,  a  ten-cent  counselor,  have  drawn  up  bushels  of 
documents  for  older  men  in  the  profession,  kept  the  minor 
affairs  of  Creswood  straight,  and  taken  every  job  offered, 
though  the  fee  amounted  to  no  more  than  five  cents.  I 
wish  to  redeem  myself,  uncle,  from  a  dear  and  affectionate 
bondage,  and  lighten  the  burden  which  you  so  nobly  took 
upon  yourself." 

"  Carroll,"  said  Captain  Gale,  "  you  have  stuff  in  you, 
and  I'm  glad  of  it."  He  then  added,  "  You  have  been  no 
burden  to  me,  boy;"  and  turning  away,  he  went  out  of 
the  room  and  into  where  his  wife  was. 


OR    CORA    GLENCOE.  237 

Carroll  May  was  interested  in  the  Huron  war  in  more 
ways  than  one.  If  Cora  Glencoe  was  Neville  Huron's 
offspring,  Carroll  was  not  so  hopelessly  separated  from 
her,  as  he  had  always  conceived  himself  to  be,  by  a  red 
and  impassable  stream — his  father's  spilt  blood. 

He  had,  before  the  revelation  of  her  parentage,  mastered, 
not  his  preference,  but  that  love  and  passion  which  school 
room  views  and  subsequent  casual  encounters  had  bred 
within  him,  and  he  now  had  his  affections  well  in  hand, 
to  curb  or  give  them  rein  as  fortune  might  invite. 

Whatever  would  be  the  after-difficulties  which  he  should 
have  to  encounter,  he  would  fain  sweep  the  bloody  and 
absolute  barrier  from  between  himself  and  Cora,  that  it 
might  be  possible  for  him  to  pass  over  to  the  other  side. 
All  this,  and  much  more,  without  his  having  spoken  to  her 
a  dozen  times  in  his  life. 

On  the  following  day,  which  was  to  be  principally  de 
voted  to  the  examination  and  cross-examination  of  Captain 
Gale,  Carroll  appeared  inside  the  bar  with  the  weighty 
legal  heads  from  Philadelphia,  who  found  the  young  law 
yer  of  great  service  in  minutiae,  and  by  no  means  inferior 
to  the  importance  of  the  case. 

If  the  court-house  had  been  packed  full  before,  it  was 
to-day  packed  and  jammed,  for  it  had  gone  abroad  that 
Captain  Gale  was  to  take  the  witness-stand,  and  intensely 
interesting  developments  were  anticipated.  The  curious 
and  eager  were  not  destined  to  disappointment,  for  before 
Captain  Gale  was  told  to  stand  aside,  he  gave  a  complete 
thirty  years'  view  of  Creswood. 

When  Oswald  Huron  saw  Captain  Gale  upon  the  wit 
ness-stand,  and  Carroll  May  "busying  himself"  inside 
the  bar,  the  iron  bands  with  which  he  had  harnessed  him 
self  down,  came  near  to  bursting.  With  a  tremendous 
and  persistent  effort,  however,  he  maintained  his  calmness, 
and,  as  before,  assiduously  supplied  his  lawyers  with 
searching,  skillful,  and  pertinent  questions. 

Over  the  head  of  Captain  Gale  the  battle  raged  to  the 
culminating  degree  of  intensity  and  heat.  Up  to  the  time 
at  which  he  was  introduced,  as  a  witness,  Oswald  Huron, 
to  all  popular  appearance,  had  decidedly  the  advantage  of 
his  brother.  But  the  well-known  and  well-proven  sturdy 


238  TEKEL, 

integrity  of  Captain  Gale,  his  unimpeachable  veracity,  his 
long  recognized  respect  for  law,  order,  and  legitimacy, 
and  the  vast  amount  of  tributary  light  which  he  threw 
upon  the  subject  of  dispute,  corrected  the  unbalanced 
scales  of  Justice,  and  left  them  suspended  in  the  air, 
trembling,  if  at  all,  in  favor  of  Neville  Huron.  After  a 
most  exciting  day,  closing  with  a  most  exquisite  cross-ex 
amination  of  Captain  Gale,  court  was  adjourned  until  the 
next  morning,  when  the  lawyers  on  either  side  would  enter 
upon  their  brain-fuddling  arguments  and  summing-up. 

But  during  the  night  which  was  to  intervene,  there  was 
some  fine  work  done  by  all  hands,  and  the  suit  was  virtu 
ally  transferred  from  the  court-room  to  a  room  in  the  vil 
lage  tavern,  in  which  were  gathered  Oswald  Huron  with 
his  counsel,  and  Neville  Huron  with  his  counsel,  with  the 
latter  of  whom  also  sat  Captain  Gale  and  Carroll  May. 

The  judge  before  whom  the  trial  had  been  progressing, 
and  who  was  to  decide  the  case,  though  not  altogether 
inferior  to  his  position,  yet  felt  himself  rather  small  in 
comparison  with  the  trained  and  talented  lawyers  from 
Baltimore  and  Philadelphia.  He  therefore  experienced  a 
desire  to  get  the  benefit  of  other  people's  wisdom  and 
opinions  before  he  should  risk  his  own ;  and  for  this 
reason  he  solicited  a  private  interview  with  Captain  Gale, 
whom  he  regarded  as  a  clear-headed,  reticent,  reliable 
man,  and  as  one  who  appeared  to  know  more  about  the 
ease  in  hand  than  was  known  by  any  other  person  with 
whom  he  could  safely  confer.  The  judge,  furthermore, 
desired  to  do  right,  intrinsically  as  well  as  legally,  and  he 
thought  that  by  a  private  talk  with  Captain  Gale  he 
might  be  able  to  enlighten  himself  upon  points  which  were 
yet  obscure,  and  would  otherwise  remain  so,  on  account 
of  the  inadmissibility  of  certain  mooted  testimony  which 
alone  could  make  them  clear.  We  will  venture  the  asser 
tion  that  very  few  protracted  and  exciting  trials  have  ever 
been  prosecuted  to  a  close,  without  creating  a  desire  in 
the  bosom  of  a  conscientious  court  to  call  a  witness  aside 
and  ask, — 

"  By-the-way,  Mr.  Brown,  what  was  it  you  were  going 
to  tell  about,  when,  under  the  customary  rulings,  I  was 
compelled  to  stop  you?" 


OR  CORA    QLENCOE. 

Now  whether  the  judge  did  right  or  wrong  in  consult 
ing  -privately  with  Captain  Gale,  we  put  it  down  in  ex 
tenuation,  if  need  be,  that  he  undoubtedly  meant  to  do 
right;  and  Captain  Gale  was  one  of  the  few  men  who, 
however  much  he  might  be  interested  in  the  result  of  a 
trial,  would  not  endeavor  to  seduce  the  judge  to  substi 
tute  sympathy  for  law.  But  he  would  and  did,  in  this 
case,  endeavor  to  ascertain  the  probable  view  which  the 
judge  entertained  in  respect  to  Cora's  lineage,  and  the 
probable  decision  which  he  would  render;  the  evidence 
being  before  him  in  extenso,  and  having  been  thoroughly 
sifted  and  winnowed  by  cross-examinations.  Although 
the  judge  was  careful  not  to  commit  himself,  Captain  Gale 
was  conscious  of  having  obtained  the  cue  for  future  action. 
The  captain  divined  about  as  follows : 

That  the  judge,  as  a  private  citizen,  was  not  in  doubt 
as  to  Cora's  lineage ;  but  that  the  same  judge,  in  whose 
keeping  was  the  conscience  of  the  Law,  was  in  doubt. 
That  a  continuance  would  be  granted  on  the  motion  of 
either  party  to  the  suit,  but  preferably  on  the  motion  of 
Neville  Huron's  counsel,  upon  the  ground  that  Maria 
Guthrie — an  important,  even  a  deciding  witness — was  not 
at  hand,  but  might  be  produced  at  a  future  session  of  the 
court.  That,  if  forced  to  a  decision  now,  the  testimony 
being  incomplete,  and,  in  many  things,  superficially  con 
flicting,  the  court  would  be  compelled  to  run  in  the  old 
grooves  in  respect  to  law  and  evidence,  and  the  decree 
would  necessarily  be  in  favor  of  Oswald  Huron. 

Captain  Gale  left  the  presence  of  the  judge,  with  a 
scheme  in  his  bead,  the  salient  points  of  which  he  unveiled 
to  Carroll  May,  who  caught  at  them  instantly,  and  not 
without  reason  or  forecast.  The  scheme  of  the  firm  and 
fertile  captain — which  led  to  the  assemblage  of  the  two 
Huron  wings  in  the  tavern-room — may  better  than  other 
wise  be  conceived  from  the  following  short  dialogue  : 

"  Carroll,"  said  Captain  Gale,  "  there  are  two  things 
to  be  done.  One  of  them  is  feasible  —  and  the  other 
may  be." 

"  What  are  they,  uncle  ?" 

"  First  —  the  case  must  be  continued.  Next  —  we  must, 
in  advance  of  a  continuance,  endeavor  to  effect  a  compro- 


240  TEKEL, 

mise  by  which  Cora  will  be  rescued  from  the  immediate 
control  of  Oswald  Huron,  and  have  an  agreed  guardian  to 
take  charge  of  her." 

"  But  is  there  a  man  alive,"  asked  Carroll,  "  with  whom, 
or  under  whose  guardianship,  Oswald  Huron  could  be 
brought  to  trust  Cora  ?" 

'There  is  one — and  a  good  one." 

'  Who  ?" 

'Mr.  Hope." 

'  True.     I  had  not  thought  of  him." 

'And  now  for  the  terms  which  will  recommend  the 
compromise  which  I  intend  shall  be  proposed,"  said  Cap 
tain  Gale.  —  "  Cora,  you  are  aware  I  presume,  has  left  the 
Creswood  School,  and  is  devoting  a  year  to  history, — or 
was,  prior  to  this  turmoil, — and  is  preparing  herself  prob 
ably  for  some  classic  institution  to  which  it  is  Oswald 
Huron's  intention  to  consign  her.  Her  preparatory  year 
is  almost  gone.  What  I  advise  to  be  proposed  is  this  : 
the  Huron  brothers  shall  contract  with  each  other  that, 
following  a  continuance  of  this  suit,  Mr.  Hope  shall  be 
chosen  to  take  charge  of  Cora,  act  as  her  guardian,  and 
send  her,  say  to  New  York,  where  she  can  pursue  her 
studies,  and  remain  for  a  year  at  the  least,  during  which 
time  Maria  Guthrie  may  be  found  ;  in  which  latter  event 
I  have  reason  to  know  that  we  shall  win.  If  this  thing 
is  properly  managed,  Oswald  Huron  can  be  brought  to 
terms,  for  the  terms  will  in  no  essential  sense  change  his 
premeditated  course  with  Cora.  As  likely  as  not  he  may 
consider  it  a  triumph,  for  he  was  as  restless  as  a  worm  in 
hot  ashes  under  my  testimony  to-day,  and  I  saw  well 
enough  that  his  previous  exulting  confidence  effectually 
failed  him.  Moreover,  such  an  arrangement  will  involve 
an  important  admission  on  his  part, — the  admission  that 
his  right  is  doubtful.  But  it  will  not  do  for  either  you 
or  me  to  make  this  proposition.  That  would  steel  him 
against  it  at  once.  He  must  be  led  up  to  it  by  one  of 
Neville  Huron's  counsel,  we  in  the  mean  time  seeming 
rather  to  object  than  to  sanction." 

"  Give  it  in  charge  of  that  sharp-nosed  attorney.  He 
will  manage  it,  if  it  can  be  done  at  all,"  said  Carroll. 

"I  agree  with  you,"  said  Captain  Gale. 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  241 

"  This  has  been  a  hard  fight,  uncle." 

"  Worse  than  cold  pitch  and  a  storm  at  sea,"  was  Cap 
tain  Gale's  reply. 

So  it  was,  in  pursuance  of  Captain  Gale's  interview  with 
the  judge,  that  the  Huron  brothers,  each  attended  by  his 
staff  of  lawyers,  met  in  conference. 

But  the  cunning  scheme  of  the  captain  of  the  Whitecap 
would  have  proved  abortive  had  it  not  been  for  one  cir 
cumstance.  His  private  interview  with  the  judge  of  the 
court  was  already  within  the  knowledge  of  the  watchful 
lawyers  engaged  by  Oswald  Huron,  who  were  not,  as  they 
boasted  among  themselves,  to  be  tricked  by  either  bribery 
or  collusion,  without  knowing  when,  where,  and  by  whom 
it  was  done.  They  communicated  to  Oswald  Huron  their 
suspicions  relative  to  this  interview,  and  put  him  on  his 
guard,  and  the  very  fact  that  Captain  Gale  and  Carroll,  in 
the  subsequent  conference,  objected  to  the  compromise 
which  Neville  Huron's  sharp-nosed  lawyer  skillfully  ma 
neuvered  before  the  assemblage,  prompted  Oswald  Huron 
to  accept  the  proposals, — which,  by-the-way,  came  more  in 
the  shape  of  suggestions  than  propositions, — and  induced 
him  to  feel  that  he  had  hedged  his  enemies. 

When  the  court  resumed  its  session  in  the  morning,  the 
cause  of  Huron  vs.  Huron  was  continued,  on  the  motion 
of  Neville  Huron,  and  upon  the  ground  already  indicated 
— the  absence  of  an  important  witness,  Maria  Guthrie. 

This  disposition  of  the  cause  left  the  Huron  affairs,  le 
gally,  in  statu  quo  ante  bellum;  for  it  was  not  within  the 
province  of  the  court  to  bind  either  party  to  good  faith 
and  performance  in  the  equitable  arrangement  resulting 
from  the  Huron  conference  in  the  tavern-room. 

Oswald  Huron  might  even  yet  forfeit  his  pledged  word, 
ignore  the  contract,  and  resume  control  of  Cora ;  for  there 
was  nothing  to  prevent  him  but  his  own  conscience  and 
sense  of  honor — no  lawful,  physical  force  or  agency  by 
which  he  could  be  restrained  from  such  a  course.  Not 
withstanding  this,  and  that  he  was  accustomed  to  brook 
no  opposition,  but  to  have  his  way  whether  or  no,  there 
was  one  thing  on  earth  which  this  strange  man  loved,  ad 
mired,  respected,  yielded  to,  and  even  feared — the  stanch 

21 


242      -  TEKEL, 

little  girl  whom  he  regarded  as  his  daughter.  He  was  not 
insensible  of  the  fact  that  he  was  possessed  of  a  devil,  and, 
to  do  him  justice,  he  strove  against  it,  but,  often,  as  ineffect 
ually  as  he,  who,  night  and  day,  was  in  the  mountain  and 
in  the  tombs,  crying  and  cutting  himself  with  stones,  and 
whom  no  man  could  bind.  There  were  times  when  Os 
wald  Huron,  knowingly,  but  from  an  irresistible,  reckless 
perversity  that  was  in  him,  had  aggressed  upon  Cora  in 
ethical  matters  which  she  held  dear  to  her  integrity,  and 
she  had  stood  out  against  him  like  a  steel  shaft  against  a 
pelting  and  pitiless  storm.  At  such  times  he  had  been 
compelled  to  yield  or  kill  her  where  she  stood.  When  she 
was  brought  back  to  Cliff  Hall  from  her  elopement,  she 
read  him  the  law  of  right  and  wrong,  and  promised  him 
firmly  that  unless  he  abided  by  it,  nothing  but  iron  chains 
would  ever  keep  her  with  him.  He  saw  from  the  despera 
tion  in  her  eyes  that  another  time  had  come  in  which  he 
must  yield,  or  she  would  wrest  her  fate  and  fortunes  from 
his  keeping,  and  leave  him  forever.  For  Cora,  whom  he 
loved  with  a  fathomless  though  insane  affection,  to  turn 
her  back  upon  him  and  seek  some  other  refuge,  would,  he 
thoroughly  felt,  pluck  the  last  glimmering  light  from  his 
soul,  and  crown  his  dark  life  with  a  wreath  of  midnight 
blackest  flowers.  He  knew  that  the  hunted  girl  was  awake 
to  her  new-born  situation,  and  that  if  he  did  not  abide  by 
her  roused  dictation,  and  by  the  agreement  which  had  just 
been  made  between  himself  and  her  champions,  that  she 
would  hardly  abide  with  him.  Under  these  influences  he 
was  coerced-  and  forewarned  to  act  in.  good  faith. 

Cora,  the  child  of  compromise,  consequently  remained 
with  Mr.  Hope  until,  for  certain  considerations  which  will 
appear,  he  determined  to  send  her  to  the  city  of  New 
York,  where  she  might  prosecute  her  studies. 

When  Captain  Gale  unveiled  to  Carroll  May  his  scheme 
in  regard  to  Cora,  among  the  several  features  of  it  the  in 
cidental  suggestion  of  the  captain  that  Cora  might  be 
sent  to  New  York,  was  the  one  which  to  Carroll  was  the 
most  attractive  ;  for  Carroll  himself  was  going  to  that 
city  to  remain  probably  for  a  year,  possibly  for  always. 
His  contemplated  change  of  base  would  be  in  pursuance 
of  Captain  Gale's  paternal  advice.  The  captain,  to  whom 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  243 

Creswood  was  a  sweet  spot  but  by  no  means  the  known 
world,  once  upon  a  time  said  to  his  young  protege, — 

"  Carroll,  Creswood  is  a  happy,  tranquil  place  for  those 
who  are  established,  and  for  others  who  have  no  ambition; 
but  it  is  not  a  place  for  a  man  to  make  his  way.  You  may 
successfully  vegetate  here,  but  that  will  hardly  satisfy  you. 
If  you  wish  to  escape  the  slow  growth  of  a  shaded  sap 
ling,  you  must  go  out  into  the  world  and  foster  yourself. 
This  is  but  the  outer  edge  of  the  universe.  Go  to  the 
center,  son,  and  you  may  do  something.  You'  will  either 
succeed  or  fail,  and  it  is  better  to  succeed,  and,  as  well  to 
fail,  at  the  center,  as  anywhere  else." 

"  What  do  you  call  the  center,  uncle  ?" 

"  Some  large  town  or  city,  where  there  is  business  to  be 
done  by  those  who  are  willing  to  do  it." 

"  New  York  is  the  largest,  and  busiest,"  said  Carroll. 
"  I  will  strike  boldly,  and  go  there." 

"  Very  well.  And  if  you  are  starved  out,  why,  then,  you 
can  come  back  to  Creswood.  I  will  send  Johnny  with 
you,  that  he  may  learn  something  besides  'ma'  and  'pa,' 
and  complete  his  theoretical  study  of  civil  engineering. 
How  do  you  like  the  prospect  ?"' 

Carroll  was  delighted,  and  lost  no  time  in  seeking  out 
Johnny  and  concocting  with  him  a  world  of  schemes. 

And  now  that  Cora  was  destined  to  the  same  city  as 
themselves,  they  numbered  the  fortunate  fact  as  chief 
among  the  attractions  which  loomed  so  gayly  up  in  the 
pathway  of  their  future.  Johnny  did  not  care  so  much 
about  Cora,  for  he  was  grown  to  be  a  large,  lubberly  lad, 
who  would  almost  as  soon  fondle  with  a  dog  as  with  the 
daughter  of  a  duke.  But  Carroll,  although  he  might 
never  see  Cora  in  the  great  city,  would  feel  a  foolish  sort 
of  satisfaction  in  knowing  that  she  was  there — in  the  same 
metes  and  bounds  with  himself. 

Graham  Huron,  laughable  to  relate,  was  actually  tried 
for  horse-stealing.  His  uncle  prosecuted  relentlessly,  and 
would  have  added  to  the  grave  charge  that  of  abduction, 
but  for  fear  of  Cora,  and  for  the  fact  that  she  was  not  now 
under  his  care.  Graham  got  off,  as  it  were,  by  the  skin  of 
his  teeth,  for  technically  he  had  stolen  the  horses,  and  law 
goes  by  technicalities.  But  as  he  proved  the  emergency 


244  TEKEL, 

under  which  they  were  taken,  that  they  were  seasonably 
returned,  unharmed,  and  by  his  orders,  and  also  established 
a  good  character,  the  jury  jocularly  agreed  to  return  him 
"not  guilty."  It  was  a  source  of  great  amusement  to 
Graham's  acquaintances  in  Philadelphia, — his  arrest  and 
trial  as  a  horse-thief, — and  he  was  likely  never  to  hear  the 
last  of  it.  He  was  advised  by  no  means  ever  to  run  for  an 
office,  if  he  did  not  wish  to  be  known  all  over  the  continent 
as  a  horse-thief  and  a  man  of  desperate  character. 

This  assault  upon  Graham  did  Oswald  Huron  no  good, 
but  detriment  rather,  as  it  necessarily  brought  before  the 
public  the  scene  at  Cliff  Hall  which  had  induced  the  young 
man  to  take  Cora  and  flee.  Oswald  Huron  thereby  lost 
the  prestige  which  he  had  gained  by  his  calm  brilliancy 
during  the  trial  for  the  possession  of  Cora  Glencoe. 

Had  it  not  been  for  an  overruling  Providence,  Cora's 
future  would  probably  have  been  like  that  of  a  tender 
lamb,  sent  out  into  a  world  of  brambles,  to  be  torn  and 
robbed  of  its  fleece  continually.  But  with  Mr.  Hope  she 
was  harbored  safely,  and  under  his  guidance  and  instruc 
tions  might  safely  adventure  upon  an  expedition  into  the 
world. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

WHEN  the  smoke  of  battle  cleared  from  about  our  young 
heroine,  there  were  but  few  people  in  Creswood,  or  in  the 
adjacent  country,  who  had  decided  opinions  about  the  case, 
or  distinct  ideas  of  its  merits  or  demerits.  It  was  evident 
to  all,  that  Captain  Gale  had  been  the  bulwark  of  Neville 
Huron,  against  which  Oswald  Huron  had  charged,  as 
waves  against  rock.  But  the  testimony  of  Captain  Gale 
was  neither  direct  nor  conclusive,  and,  in  the  nature  of  his 
knowledge,  could  not  be.  The  intelligent  few  of  his  ac 
quaintance,  and  of  those  who  had  heard  his  honest  voice, 
and  seen  him  with  unshaken  firmness  and  uninterrupted 
consistency  withstand  a  cross-examination  which  elicited 
everything  bearing  upon  the  case  of  which  he  had  known 


OR   CORA   GLENCOE.  245 

or  dreamed  for  the  last  twenty  years,  believed  as  he  be 
lieved,  with  the  exception  of  Oswald  Huron,  and  possibly, 
Oswald  Huron's"  lawyers.  The  simpletons  of  Captain 
Gale's  acquaintance  were  with  him  in  opinion  and  sym 
pathy,  simply  because  he  was  with  himself.  But  there 
were  many  goggle-eyed  lookers-on,  who  knew  none  of  the 
parties  to  the  controversy,  whose  fuddled  condition  was 
downright  amusing.  One  old  countryman  went  away 
saying,  "that  he'd  be-dog-gone-his-cats  if  them  lawyers 
hadn't  twisted  his  noddle,  and  beat  up  his  brains  so,  that 
he  would  have  to  put  in  a  double  crap  the  next  spring  to 
git  himself  straightened  out  again.  He  wouldn't  -git  done 
thinkin'  and  dreamin'  'bout  it  fur  a  year." 

Now  that  Cora  was  disinherited  of  one  father  and  not 
given  another,  she  began  to  regard  herself  as  almost  an 
alien  in  the  house  of  the  Hurons. 

Neville  Huron  visited  Cora  before  he  left  for  Philadel 
phia.  Their  meeting  was  too  affecting  and  too  difficult  of 
description  for  the  prosy  pen.  He  was  all  that  she  would 
ask  as  a  father,  and  she  filled  his  bosom  as  a  daughter. 

In  the  matter  of  visiting  Cora,  wherever  she  might  be, 
it  was  deemed  prudent  by  Mr.  Hope,  inasmuch  as  Oswald 
Huron  was  not  likely  to  seek  her  often,  and  inasmuch  as 
it  was  not  desirable  that  he  should  do  so,  that  Neville 
Huron  and  his  family  should  be  restricted  to  periodical 
and  not  too  frequent  visits.  Oswald  Huron  being  simi 
larly  restricted,  there  would  be  no  reason  for  complaint  on 
either  hand.  Neville  agreed  with  Mr.  Hope,  and  prom 
ised  not  to  stir  up  his  brother  Oswald  by  permitting  his 
family  or  himself  too  frequently  to  see  Cora.  He  would 
give  his  brother  no  excuse  to  depart  from  the  agreement 
between  them. 

Our  heroine,  in  some  respects,  was  better  situated  than 
young  girls  generally  are.  She  had  two  fathers, — at  all 
events  there  were  two  wealthy  men  claiming  her  as  their 
daughter,  who  were  each  willing  and  anxious  to  supply 
all  her  personal  wants,  furnish  her  with  plenty  of  money, 
and  see  that  she  was  assiduously  cared  for,  while  in  this 
state  of  suspension.  In  addition,  she  was  in  the  posses 
sion  of  a  kind,  indulgent,  venerable  guardian,  who  would 
give  her  all  the  freedom  she  craved,  and  encourage  her 

21* 


246  TEKKL, 

not  to  despond,  but  to  look  aloft,  and  remember  the  ever 
lasting  covenants  of  her  Maker. 

Oswald  Huron,  during  his  manly,  keen,  and  superb 
struggle  for  Cora  Glencoe,  had  earned  a  reputation  for 
defensive  and  offensive  ability  for  which  no  person  had 
ever  given  him  credit.  But  after  the  excitement  was  well 
over,  his  mind  collapsed ;  and  losing  the  calm  power  of 
his  lucid  interval,  he  became  as  savage  as  a  punched  tiger, 
and  as  haggard  as  famine. 

He  worried  himself  continually,  talked  wildly  by  day 
and  by  night,  and  frequently  woke  up  the  servants  at  un 
seasonable  hours,  for  trivial  and  unreasonable  services. 

When,  years  ago,  he  first  came  to  Cliff  Hall  and  made 
it  his  home,  he  brought  white  servants  with  him  from 
Philadelphia.  They  remained  with  him  a  few  months, — 
until  the  death  of  his  wife, — after  which,  as  by  accord, 
they  all  left  him,  with  the  exception  of  Maria  Guthrie, 
who,  being  attached  to  Mrs.  Huron,  had  promised  her  on 
her  death-bed  to  nurse  and  nourish  her  child.  Bereft  of 
his  wife,  and  bereft  of  servants,  Oswald  Huron  bought 
slaves.  They  were  compelled  to  remain  with  him,  like  or 
dislike,  and,  with  their  issue,  were  with  him  now.  Ordi 
narily,  he  was  not  severe  upon  them,  but  when  the  spirit 
moved  him,  and  they  happened  to  be  in  the  way,  he  made 
them  walk.  They  soon  learned  pretty  well  to  dodge  him, 
however,  and  taking  it  all  in  all  they  had  an  easy,  lazy 
time  of  it. 

Not  long  after  the  Huron  war  had  been  suspended  by 
an  armistice,  Jim,  the  "  body-servant"  of  Oswald  Huron, 
was  waked  from  his  slumbers  about  midnight,  by  a  bell 
which  communicated  with  his  master's  chamber,  and 
which  was  so  arranged  that  it  would  tinkle  right  into 
Jim's  ear  whenever  the  master  saw  proper  to  pull  it  after 
the  servant  had  retired  and  composed  himself  to  rest. 
Jim  sprang  from  his  couch,  went  up-stairs,  and  with  fear 
and  trembling,  tapped  at  his  master's  door — and  was 
.ordered  in.  Oswald  Huron  was  walking  the  floor,  like  a 
caged  tiger.  The  negro  stood,  half  asleep,  notwithstand 
ing  the  tremor  of  bis  soul,  waiting  for  his  master's  orders. 
Oswald  Huron  wanted  a  fish, — a  fresh,  live  fish, — and  he 
commanded  Jim  to  get  him  one  immediately.  The  negro 


OR   CORA    QLENCOE.  247 

looked  at  him  almost  speechless  with  amazement.  This 
was  the  most  unreasonable  and  untimely  demand  which 
had  ever  been  made  upon  him. 

"  Master,"  said  he,  with  anxious  humility,  "  dey  aint  no 
fish  in  dees  woods." 

"I  want  a  fish!"  sternly  and  despotically  said  the 
master,  with  a  frown  which  made  the  negro  quake,  and 
with  a  wave  of  the  hand  which  notified  him  to  leave  and 
go  get  it. 

The  negro  went  down,  waked  up  the  cook,  and  coun 
seled  with  her, — telling  her  meanwhile  that  he  thought 
"master  had  done  gone  clean  crazy." 

There  was  no  place  in  all  Creswood  where  a  live  fish 
could  be  had  at  this  witching  time  of  night,  and  Jim,  as 
the  next  best  thing  he  could  think  of,  concluded  to  try  and 
fool  his  master  with  a  mackerel. 

When  he  tremblingly  went  back  to  his  master's  room, 
with  a  doctored  mackerel  on  a  string,  as  if  he  had  just 
hooked  it  from  a  trout  pool,  he  found  Oswald  Huron 
seated,  and  asleep,  with  his  head  resting  upon  a  table. 
A  pen  lounged  in  his  nerveless  hand,  and  before  him  was 
paper  and  an  ink-bottle.  Jim  quietly  and  joyfully  with 
drew. 

On  the  initial  page  of  a  letter  sheet  was  written, — 

"CLIFF  HALL. 
"  MY  DARLING  DAUGHTER  CORA  : 

"  Night  and  darkness  are  in  the  house  when  you  are 
away  from  me.  My  heart  yearns  for " 

The  above  is  all  that  was'  penned,  before  sleep,  fatigue, 
or  some  other  influence  overcame  him,  and  cut  short  his 
lament. 

In  the  morning,  Oswald  Huron  was  unusually  calm, 
and,  to  the  infinite  relief  of  his  servant,  did  not  allude  to 
fresh  fish  or  any  other  untimely  matter.  He  merely  asked 
if  the  windows  had  been  closed,  remarking  that  he  had 
caught  cold  overnight. 

During  the  day,  Mr.  Hope,  who  was  one  among  the 
few  visitors  who  ever  appeared  at  Cliff  Hall,  was  an 
nounced.  Oswald  Huron  received  him  with  due  consid- 


248  TEKEL, 

eration  and  civility.  After  a  short  and  quiet  conversation 
upon  extraneous  and  indifferent  subjects  the  old  minister 
observed, — 

"  Mr.  Huron,  I  thought  that  you  might  like  to  see  Cora 
before  she  leaves  Creswood." 

"Where  do  you  contemplate  sending  her?" 

"I  have  concluded  to  place  her  for  awhile  in  New 
York." 

"  In  the  city  of  New  York  ?"  asked  Oswald  Huron,  not 
without  a  slight  elevation  of  the  eyebrows,  indicating 
surprise. 

"  Yes— in  the  city." 

"  I  have  never  heard  that  New  York  city  was  distin 
guished  for  its  educational  facilities." 

"Nor  I,"  answered  the  minister.  "But  I  am  advised 
of  a  place  in  the  city,  which  will,  I  think,  be  more  advan 
tageous  to  Cora  than  if  I  should  send  her  to  some  strict 
seminary.  I  was  thinking  that  it  would  be  more  agree 
able  to  her  and  her  relatives,  should  I  place  her  in  a  pri 
vate  family,  where  she  will  get  the  benefit  of  select 
society,  and,  with  other  pupils,  be  instructed  in  her  studies 
at  the  family  mansion.  This  is  the  arrangement  which  I 
have  in  view,  but  I  have  refrained  from  making  it  posi 
tive  and  final  until  I  shall  have  conferred  with  you  upon 
the  subject." 

"Mr.  Hope,  if  you  will  exercise  your  own  judgment 
with  respect  to  my  daughter,  and  not  suffer  yourself  to 
be  influenced  by  my  enemies,  I  am  willing  that  you  should 
have  absolute  control  of  her  for  the  time.  I  have  every 
confidence  in  Cora.  Wherever  you  may  place  her,  she 
will  be  as  stanch  as  those  cedars  of  Lebanon  which  you 
preachers  so  greatly  glorify." 

"  Will  you  see  Coca  before  she  goes  ?" 

"I  would  like  to  see  her,  but  I  am  submitting  to  the 
compromise." 

"  We  must  all  abide  by  the  agreement,"  rejoined  Mr. 
Hope  ;  "  but  it  will  not  be  best  for  her  to  see  none  of  her 
relatives  during  this  suspension.  I  have  thought  it  both 
prudent  and  tender  toward  her  that  she  should  see  you 
on  the  one  part,  and  your  brother's  family  on  the  other, 
about  once  in  every  three  months,  if  you  or  they  should 


OR   CORA    GLEACOE.  249 

find  it  convenient  to  visit  her  that  often.  What  do  you 
think  of  it  ?" 

"  You  are  the  arbiter,  Mr.  Hope.  I  confide  in  you,  and 
will  make  no  objections — at  present." 

"What  shall  I  say  to  Cora,  —  that  you  will  be  over  to 
see  her,  or  not?" 

"Tell  her  that  I  will  come.  Probably, — yes,  I  feel 
better  to-day,  and  I  may  as  well  walk  over  with  you 
when  you  return." 

After  some  further  conversation  Oswald  Huron  accom 
panied  the  minister  to  his  residence. 

When  Cora  saw  Oswald  Huron  she  went  to  his  bosom. 
She  could  not  hold  back.  From  her  infancy  she  had 
lived  with  him  and  regarded  him  as  her  father.  And 
now,  in  his  haggard  calm,  and  the  new  relations  which 
had  arisen  between  them,  with  thoughts  of  his  loneliness, 
and  the  firm,  bold  battle  he  had  made  to  keejj  her,  she 
was  melted  to  compassionate  affection.  He  pressed  her 
to  his  heart.  His  breast  was  convulsed,  and  heaved  with 
the  power  of  suppressed  emotion.  He  knew  not  how 
much  he  loved  Cora  until  this  moment,  and  she  knew  not 
until  now,  that  with  all  his  fiery  faults  and  gloomy  terrors, 
he  was  very  dear  to  her  heart.  Their  interview  was  not 
long,  and  was  principally  devoted  to  exchanging  endear 
ments.  Oswald  Huron  experienced  a  softening  of  his 
heart,  which  he  had  never  felt  before.  Under  the  influence 
of  roused  affection,  he  asked  her  to  forgive  him  for  having 
overshadowed  her  young  life  as  a  deadly  nightshade,  and 
to  strive  if  she  could  love  him  in  future,  when  he  would 
be  gentle  with  her.  He  poured  out  a  purer  than  his 
wonted  spirit  upon  her,  and  blessed  her  fervently  in  the 
name  of  Heaven  and  its  great  God. 

"Ah!"  said  he,  "my  little  one,  if  you  knew  of  the 
Apollyon  against  whom  I  have  to  contend,  the  Apollyon 
who  haunts  my  pillow  and  my  steps,  and  comes  upon 
me  with  his  infernal  power,  and  sits  in  my  heart,  and 
sways  my  faculties,  you  would  pity  as  well  as  dread  the 
unfortunate  man  who  claims  you  as  his  child." 

This  was  the  first  time  that  Oswald  Huron  had  ever 
alluded  to  himself  in  this  manner.  In  his  deep  rich  voice 
there  was  a  thrilling  sadness,  the  echo,  almost,  of  despair. 


250  TEKEL, 

Cora's  tender  heart  was  rent  by  these  writhing  words, 
and  she  clung  frantically  about  his  neck  while  her  eyes 
flashed  fire  and  alternately  issued  tears. 

The  young  girl  had  never  had  an  intimation,  other  than 
from  her  own  observation,  that  a  disordered  mind  dic 
tated  the  actions  and  dominated  the  heart  of  Oswald 
Huron,  rendering  him,  oftener  than  not,  perverse,  bitter, 
and  uncontrollable.  Her  bosom  now  ached  with  compas 
sion  and  teemed  with  palliation  for  him. 

Oswald  Huron  took  leave  of  Cora,  after  having  ex 
horted  her  to  abide  with  those  principles  which  he  knew 
to  be  her  guide  and  stay.  He  seemed  never  to  have 
realized  as  he  now  did  —  his  mind  being  perfectly  clear  — 
what  a  firm,  heroic,  invincible  spirit  this  woodland  child 
must  possess,  to  have  lived  alone  with  him  from  the 
cradle  almost  to  womanhood,  and  performed  her  duty 
faithfully,  *vithout  murmuring,  but  hopelessly.  He  could 
not  remember  the  time  when  he  had  had  just  occasion  to 
reprove  her ;  nor  could  he  remember  the  time,  if  ever, 
that  he  had  taken  her  to  his  heart  as  he  had  done  to-day. 
He  could  look  back  and  see  her  as  of  yore  she  stepped  about 
him,  with  serious,  sad  eyes,  —  or  wandered  out  with  her 
dog  to  seek  companionship  among  the  birds  of  the  forest, 
from  the  voices  of  the  winds,  or  the  splashing  of  the 
waves. 

He  went  home,  cleft  to  the  very  soul.  The  ensuing 
night,  he  was  taken  from  the  floor  of  his  chamber,  in  fear 
ful  convulsions.  A  dangerous  illness  succeeded,  from 
which  he  slowly  recovered,  and  during  which  Cora  will 
fully  postponed  her  departure  from  Creswood,  left  her 
guardian,  and  watched  over  her  uncle  until  his  malady 
abated  and  health  returned. 

Prior  to  Mr.  Hope's  special  visit  to  Oswald  Huron,  and 
the  return-visit  of  the  latter,  the  old  minister  had  received 
the  following  letter  in  answer  to  one  which  he  had  written 
immediately  upon  the  commencement  of  his  authority  and 
responsibility  as  Cora's  chosen  guardian: 

"Rev.  ST.  JOHN  HOPE. 

"  MY  EVER-ESTEEMED  FRIEND, — Your  letter  of  the  10th 
inst.  is  just  at  hand.  I  am  glad  to  be  able  to  answer  it 


OH   CORA    GLENCOE.  251 

satisfactorily,  I  trust,  and  without  delay.  Don't  mention 
trouble  to  me,  my  dear  sir,  in  anything  which  concerns  or 
will  accommodate  you.  I  have  what  you  inquire  for, 
ready  made,  here  in  New  York,  without  going  any  farther. 
If  you  should  search  the  country,  you  could  not  find  an 
accessible  temporary  home,  so  well  suited  to  the  young 
lady  you  describe,  as  she  will  find  in  the  mansion  of  Mrs. 
Boyd,  where  I  have  the  honor  and  pleasure  of  being  domi 
ciled.  The  mistress  is  a  wealthy  young  widow,  who,  for 
the  sake  of  society,  admits  to  her  house,  as  permanent 
guests,  a  few  well-chosen  persons,  mostly  of  her  own  sex. 
She  is  honest,  gentle,  correct,  and  delightful.  She  keeps 
about  her  an  unexceptionable  circle,  such  as  any  young  girl 
may  safely  enter  and  abide  with,  and  certainly  find  agree 
able.  There  are  pupils  resident  in  the  mansion,  which  is 
visited  daily  by  professional  masters  and  mistresses  of  arts 
and  sciences.  A  superb  piano,  also,  which  Miss  Huron 
can  use  almost  at  will.  To  enumerate,  we  have,  in  the 
way  of  company,  or  colony  : 

"  First — Mrs.  Linda  Boyd,  the  Queen  Bee  of  the  hive. 

"  Second — Uncle  Jesse  Medley,  Mrs.  Boyd's  uncle,  an 
old  bachelor,  and,  if  you  will  pardon  me,  a  trump.  He 
stands  no  nonsense.  He  and  I  are  great  friends. 

"Third — Mr.  Lake,  a  gentleman;  Mrs.  Lake,  a  lady;. 
Miss  Lake,  fifteen  years  old  ;  Missie  Lake,  five  years  old ; 
an  interesting,  cultivated,  proper,  traveled  family. 

"  Fourth — Miss  Lightner,  a  morning  teacher  in  one  of 
our  first-class  schools.  Her  afternoons  are  devoted  to  the 
pupils  in  the  Boyd  mansion.  She  is  a  young  lady  whose 
presence  is  invariably  profitable. 

"  Fifth — Two  young  misses  from  the  country,  under 
Miss  Lightner's  control  and  instruction. 

"  Sixth — There  are  two  vacancies,  one  of  which  will 
be  reserved,  until  I  hear  from  you,  for  Miss  Huron. 

"  If  Miss  Huron  were  my  sister,  and  I  were  going  to 
Europe  or  anywhere,  I  would  leave  her  here,  or  with 
you. 

"  I  will  take  pleasure  in  meeting  the  young  lady  at  the 
cars,  and  conducting  her  to  Mrs.  Boyd's,  if  you  should 
decide  to  consign  her  to  this  place.  Or,  if  it  would  com 
mode  you,  I  will  come  down  to  Creswood  for  her.  I  have 


252  TEKEL, 

nothing  of  moment  to  occupy  my  time  at  present,  and 
would  be  glad  of  an  occasion  to  visit  Creswood,  and  see 
some  of  my  old  friends  there,  chief  among  whom  are  your 
self,  Garland,  and  the  Gales. 

"  With  veneration  and  respect, 

"  I  remain  sincerely  your  friend, 

"  CASSEL  P.  RAPID. 

"  P.  S. — Miss  Cora  Huron  need  not  contemplate  bringing 
a  maid  with  her  if  she  comes  here.  The  maid  would  be 
useless.— C.  P.  R." 

"  Cora,"  said  Mr.  Hope,  after  his  conference  with  Os 
wald  Huron,  which  was  in  pursuance  of  the  letter  just 
published,  "  your  destination  is  fixed." 

"  Where  am  I  to  go  ?"  asked  the  young  girl. 

"  Here — read  this  letter.  It  will  tell  you  better  than  I 
could  tell  you  myself." 

Cora  read  Cassel  Rapid's  letter,  and  turning  to  Mr. 
Hope,  inquired, — 

"  Who  is  Cassel  P.  Rapid  ?" 

"  He  is  the  son  of  Guy  Rapid,  of  whom  you  have  often 
heard  me  speak." 

"  He  is  very  kind,"  said  Cora. 

•  "  He  is  kind,  and  that  is  not  his  only  virtue,"  said  the 
old  minister.  "  Also,  he  has  relieved  me  of  much  anxiety. 
What  that  letter  says,  we  can  both  rely  upon.  You  will 
have  a  pleasant  place  at  Mrs.  Boyd's,  without  any  doubt." 

"  He  writes  like  a  young  man,"  said  Cora.  "  Where 
have  you  known  him  ?" 

"  I  knew  him  when  he  was  a  playful  little  cub  of  a  boy. 
I  have  seen  him  within  the  last  six  months,  and  on  my 
word  he  is  genuine.  I  intend  to  put  you  somewhat  under 
his  care  and  guidance,  for  when  you  get  so  far  away  from 
home,  you  will  need  a  referee ;  and  I  know  of  no  person 
with  whom  I  would  trust  you  so  confidently  as  with  him. 
He  inherits  numberless  good  qualities  from  his  most  ex 
cellent  and  worthy  dead  parents." 

"  How  will  I  go  ?"  asked  Cora. 

"  Garland  and  his  sister  Bell  will  go  with  you." 

Cora  was  relieved.  She  did  not  fancy  Cassel  Rapid  as 
a  lone  escort. 


OR   CORA    GLEN  CO  E.  253 

"  When  will  you  be  ready  to  leave  ?"  asked  Mr.  Hope. 

"  I  am  ready  now,  or  at  any  time  which  may  suit  your 
convenience.  You  must  forgive  me  for  refusing  to  get 
ready  while  there  was  sickness  at  Cliff  Hall." 

"You  were  a  little  headstrong,  my  dear,  but  I  do  not 
know  but  that  you  were  right,  after  all.  I  will  lay  no 
blame  against  you  there." 

Cora  kissed  the  brow  of  the  aged  minister,  and  withdrew 
to  her  own  chamber  to  contemplate  the  future  which  was 
about  to  come  actively  upon  her.  Life,  to  her,  had  been 
thus  far  like  a  passive  existence,  in  which  she  was  called 
upon  chiefly  to  resist.  Now  she  was  about  to  enter  upon 
activity  and  unfettered  endeavor — unfettered  except  by 
her  inexperience. 

But  she  was  fitted  for  contact,  and  would  more  naturally 
absorb  and  gather,  than  lose  and  dissipate. 


CHAPTER   XXYI. 

SIMPLE,  unsophisticated  Creswood  was  getting  to  be 
blase. 

After  the  eventful,  heated  term  through  which  it  had 
passed,  nunibering  among  its  items  and  incidents,  blood 
shed,  elopement,  strangers,  ghosts,  lawsuits,  and  a  general 
ganging  and  mixing  up  of  the  people, — and  all  crowded 
into  a  single  summer  and  autumn, — nothing  less  rousing 
than  an  earthquake  or  a  wedding  would  elicit  remark  or 
capture  a  glance  ; — and  as  neither  earthquake  nor  wedding 
was  at  hand,  the  greeting  of  the  people  fell  into  "  dull 
times  "  as  they  met  and  separated  on  their  way.  There 
was  no  newspaper  in  the  neighborhood  to  startle  the  popu 
lace  by  wonderful  editorial  asseverations  one  week,  and 
still  more  wonderful  contradictions  and  innuendoes  the 
next.  Consequently  Creswood  became  itself  again,  and 
so  continued  for  a  season. 

But  as  long  as  Cora  Glencoe  remained  in  Creswood,  the 
gossips  would  gabble  concerning  her  and  her  family  rela- 

22 


254  TEKEL, 

tions.  But  Cora  was  about  to  leave,  and  very  unkindly 
bear  away  with  her  the  last  breath  of  the  gossips. 

As  Mr.  Hope  had  promised,  Garland  and  his  sister  Bell 
accompanied  Cora  on  her  journey  to  New  York.  When 
they  arrived  at  the  Boyd  mansion,  Cassel  Rapid  was  out 
of  town,  boating  on  the  Hudson,  it  being  a  pleasant,  breezy 
day.  Linda,  also,  was  out  in  the  city ;  but  Mrs.  Lake  re 
ceived  Cora,  told  Garland  that  she  had  been  expected  and 
provided  for,  that  Mrs.  Boyd  would  soon  be  at  home,  and 
every  needful  attention  be  bestowed  upon  the  young  lady. 

Garland,  who  was  perfectly  satisfied  with  appearances, 
took  leave,  and,  with  his  sister  Bell,  went  on  to  Connecti 
cut  to  visit  some  relatives. 

Cora  felt  at  ease  with  Mrs.  Lake,  who  was  an  inviting, 
lady-like  matron,  and  perfectly  at  ease  herself.  Mrs.  Lake 
was  not  slow  to  recognize  in  the  new  guest  a  superior 
quality  of  girl,  and  a  most  acceptable  acquisition  to  the 
Boyd  colony. 

Linda  had  so  improved  under  the  tutorship  of  Cassel 
Rapid,  and  by  daily  contact  with  those  whom  he  had 
secured  for  her  companions,  that  she  was  now  competent 
to  pass  muster  almost  anywhere.  Ignorance  and  diffidence 
were  supplanted  by  increasing  comprehension  and  modest 
confidence,  and,  her  heart  remaining  pure  and  domestic, 
she  had  already  become  an  agreeable,  well-behaved  girl, 
charming  and  sweet  at  the  fireside,  in  the  parlor,  or  on 
the  boulevard. 

So  soon  as  Linda  had  got  an  elementary  understanding 
of  city  life,  and  of  her  true  position,  she  emerged  from 
the  fog  which  had  enveloped  her,  as  the  moon  bursts 
through  banked  and  rifted  clouds.  She  seemed  to  com 
prehend  everything  all  at  once,  and  speedily  learned  to 
blush  at  her  former  ignorance  and  simplicity. 

Mr.  Hope,  in  hie  correspondence  with  Cassel  Rapid,  had 
given  the  young  man  a  sketch  of  Cora's  life  and  experi 
ence,  and  had  fully  disclosed  to  him  her  present  peculiar 
situation,  that  Cassel  might  the  more  knowingly  judge 
what  would  be  the  tenderest  and  most  balmy  treatment 
for  her.  He  also  delegated  to  Cassel  the  eye  and  arm  of 
a  guardian,  requesting  him  to  take  an  interest  in  the 
young  stranger,  look  after  her,  and  see  that  she  avoided 


OR   CORA    OLENCOE.  255 

all  harm.  Nothing  but  the  almost  boundless  confidence 
which  the  old  minister  had  in  both  Cassel  and  Cora,  could 
ever  have  reconciled  his  conscience  to  the  course  he  was 
pursuing  with  his  young  protegee,  or  ever  have  prompted 
such  a  course.  Ordinarily,  he  was  furnishing  the  young 
gentleman  with  undue  opportunities,  and  subjecting  the 
young  lady  to  some  of  those  insidious  perils  which  wait 
upon  the  pathway  of  innocent  and  unsuspecting  youth. 
But  the  old  minister  had  brought  himself  firmly  to  believe 
that  in  Cassel's  soul  was  neither  snare  nor  ambush,  and 
that  Cora  was  not  a  girl  to  be  taken  either  at  will  or  by 
surprise. 

Accepting  the  trust  which  Mr.  Hope  had  gently  urged 
upon  him,  Cassel,  with  the  design  of  preparing  the  way 
for  a  proper  performance  of  his  assumed  duty,  acquainted 
Linda  with  Cora's  character  as  described  by  the  minister, 
and  cautioned  not  only  her  but  all  the  inmates  of  the 
Boyd  mansion  upon  the  recent  prominent  points  of  Cora's 
history.  He  was  interested  in  the  coming  pupil,  in  ad 
vance  of  her  coming,  and  closed  his  instructions  to  Linda 
by  saying, — 

"  Now,  my  little  Urban,  you  must  not  imagine,  because 
Miss  Huron  has  been  raised  in  the  woods,  that  she  is 
necessarily  as  green  as  you  were  when  I  first  found  you," 
and  Cassel  and  Linda  laughed  merrily.  "  Therefore,  do 
not  attempt  to  patronize  her,  but  receive  her  as  you  would 
your  present  other  self, — just  as  you  would  like  to  be  re 
ceived  should  you  go  down  to  Creswood.  To  begin  with, 
remember  that  Miss  Huron  is  from  Creswood,  and  that 
Creswood  is  Cassel  Rapid's  birthplace." 

"  Creswood  should  feel  very  much  indebted  to  Cassel 
Rapid  for  condescending  to  be  born  there,"  replied  Linda, 
with  playful  sarcasm.  She  then  added,  "  Brother,  don't 
get  vain,  for  if  you  do,  I  shall  follow  your  example." 

"  Follow  my  advice,  and  you  will  do  better  than  to  copy 
from  my  example,"  said  Cassel.  "I  am  your  mentor,  re 
member, — not  your  exemplar." 

"  You  are  my  brother,"  said  Linda,  affectionately,  "and 
for  your  sake,  if  not  for  hers,  I  will  endeavor  to  win  Miss 
Huron's  heart  on  sight." 

As  before  said,  Linda  and  Cassel  were  both  absent  when 


256  TEKEL, 

Cora  arrived  at  the  Boyd  mansion,  a  total  stranger  in  the 
midst  of  a  myriad.  When  Linda  returned  to  her  house 
Cora  was  alone  in  a  sitting-room,  Mrs.  Lake  having  left 
her  for  a  few  moments.  Linda,  learning  that  Cora  was  in 
the  house,  went  to  meet  and  welcome  her.  As  she  came 
in  at  the  door,  Cora  looked  around  and  saw  a  half-hesita 
ting  girl,  scarcely  older  than  herself,  with  a  tender,  pretty 
face,  stylish  form,  and  an  air  of  modest  investigation  and 
curiosity.  She  had  no  idea  that  this  was  the  Widow  Boyd, 
the  mistress  of  the  mansion.  Linda  was  enchanted  with 
her  first  sight  of  Cora,  and  her  heart  went  out  to  the 
young  stranger  on  the  instant.  She  stepped  forward ; 
Cora  left  her  chair,  and  facing  the  new-comer,  each  stood 
looking  at  the  other  with  a  half  smile. 

"  Shall  I  introduce  myself  ?"  asked  Cora. 

"  No.  I  know  you, — but  I  had  no  conception  that  you 
would  be  so  sweet  and  lovely.  Do  you  know  me  ?" 

"  I  do  not." 

"  Guess  who  I  am." 

"  I  cannot." 

"Would  you  like  to  know?" 

Here  the  girls  both  laughed. 

"Yes,  if  your  name  is  half  as  pretty  as  you  are,"  said 
Cora,  returning  Linda's  compliment. 

Linda  announced  herself.  Cora  was  rejoiced  and  amazed. 
This  young  rose-lipped  girl  to  be  a  widow,  and  the  mistress 
of  the  mansion  !  She  could  hardly  realize  it. 

Linda,  approaching  nearer,  held  out  her  arms,  and 
said, — 

"  Come — let  me  welcome  you." 

Cora  met  her  embrace,  and  two  tender  bosoms  throbbed 
against  each  other. 

"  I  am  so  glad  you  have  come,"  said  Linda.  "  I  know 
that  I  shall  love  you,  because  you  are  so  sweet  and  fresh 
from  the  country." 

"  Do  you  love  the  country  ?"  asked  Cora,  whose  precon 
ceived  idea  of  the  Widow  Boyd  was  of  a  different  person 
altogether  from  the  one  now  before  her. 

"I  do  indeed — and  everything  from  it.  I  am  but  a 
rustic  myself,  transplanted  from  the  backwoods.  But  let 
me  show  you  your  realm,  and  get  your  baggage  to- 


OR   CORA    GLEN  CO  E.  25  T 

gether."  And  Linda  took  Cora  to  the  room  set  apart  for 
her.  "  Has  your  baggage  arrived  ?"  asked  Linda,  glanc 
ing  about. 

At  this  moment  the  alert  housekeeper  looked  in,  and 
pointing  to  a  small  trunk,  observed, — 

"  That  is  all  the  baggage  which  came." 

"  It  is  all  I  have,"  said  Cora.  "  I  will  be  outfitted  here 
in  the  city." 

"  You  are  right,"  said  Linda,  "  because  our  country 
dresses  generally  look  odd  in  the  city." 

The  housekeeper  went  off,  better  satisfied  than  she  had 
been  with  the  pomp  and  circumstance  of  one  small  trunk ; 
for  when  she  had  noted  the  insignificant  amount  of  bag 
gage,  and  had  taken  a  glance  at  Cora,  she  had  said  to 
herself, — 

"  Very  nice,  but  very  poor." 

Underlings  are  apt  to  judge  by  outlying  circumstances. 
A  cart-load  of  baggage  has  made  many  a  porter  polite, 
and  a  diamond  ring  on  the  finger  of  a  fop  has  rendered 
many  a  dining-room  servant  obsequious,  —  whereas,  the 
person  without  so  much  baggage,  or  so  much  ring,  might 
be  by  far  the  better  of  the  two. 

It  required  but  a  moment's  observation — such  as  females 
rarely  fail  to  bestow — for  Cora  to  discover  that  there  was 
a  difference  between  her  dresses  and  those  of  Mrs.  Lake 
and  Linda ;  for  although  her  dresses  were  complete,  they 
did  not  have  the  appearance,  in  her  memory,  of  being  as 
finished  as  those  of  the  city  ladies.  This,  however,  was 
not  a  matter  greatly  to  trouble  a  girl  of  Cora's  good  sense 
and  financial  readiness,  and  to  tell  the  truth,  there  was  but 
one  person  in  the  whole  city  whom  she  felt  a  backward 
ness  about  meeting,  attired  in  whatever  dress  she  might 
be.  This  person  was  Cassel  Rapid,  whom  she  reflected 
upon  as  a  critical  and  fastidious  city  gentleman,  who  was 
to  exercise  over  her  some  control,  along  with  which  would 
probably  go  the  right  or  privilege  of  scrutinizing  her  attire. 
In  most  things  Cassel  was  both  critical  and  fastidious  ; 
but  in  the  matter  of  a  country  girl,  or  any  other  girl,  he 
would  always  be  enlisted  on  the  side  of  purity  and  intelli 
gence.  Let  him  once,  see  Cora's  face,  and  he  would  be  her 
knight,  regardless  of  the  pattern  from  which  her  last 

22* 


258  TEKEL, 

dresses  were  cut.  If  there  was  a  man  in  the  world  who 
forgave  trifles,  it  was  Cassel  Rapid.  If  there  was  a  man 
in  the  world  who  was  considerate  and  tender  toward  the 
tender  and  inexperienced,  it  was  Cassel  Rapid.  And  if 
there  was  a  man  in  the  wide  world  who  was  the  relentless 
foe  of  despotic  evil,  it  was  Cassel  Rapid. 

Although  Cora  had  anticipated  a  friendly  welcome,  she 
was  not  prepared  for  the  sweet  and  loving  one  which  Linda 
gave  her.  She  was  destined  to  yet  another  surprise.  In 
Cassel  Rapid,  the  chosen  one  of  Mr.  Hope,  she  expected 
to  see  a  black-dressed,  professional,  and  somewhat  caustic- 
looking  young  gentleman,  whose  outward  appearance 
would  be  faultless,  whose  city  politeness  would  be  killing, 
and  whose  manners  would  be  regulated  by  square  and 
compass,  and  by  no  means  amiss  so  much  as  a  hair's- 
breadth.  Why  she  had  so  conceived  him  she  could  not 
even  tell  herself,  but  she  was  constantly  conscious  of  an 
effort  at  mental  preparation  to  put  herself,  when  she 
should  meet  him,  between  the  veritable  P  and  Q. 

As  Cora,  with  Linda,  came  out  of  her  room  into  the 
hall,  she  heard  a  pleasant,  manly,  laughing  voice,  and 
running  footsteps,  coming  up  the  stairway,  and  in  a  mo 
ment  Cassel  Rapid  appeared  at  the  head  of  the  stairs, 
shaking  bis  finger  in  saucy  triumph  at  some  one  below. 
He  was  dressed  in  sailor's  habit,  and  was  just  off  the 
water,  where  he  had  been  boating.  As  he  came  along  the 
hall,  Cora,  not  in  the  least  suspecting  that  this  was  the 
formidable  personage  who  was  to  hold  a  sort  of  dominion 
over  her,  did  not  hesitate  to  let  her  eyes  rest  upon  him. 
Cassel  was  barely  twenty-two  years  of  age,  very  youthful 
in  appearance  when  he  was  happy,  and,  when  on  a  frolic, 
looked  no  other  than  a  boy.  He  was  just  now  from  below- 
stairs,  and  from  kissing  little  five-year-old  Lily  Lake,  who 
had  chased  him  up  the  steps  in  an  effort  at  reprisal.  As  he 
came  along  the  hall,  his  face  lighted  with  sportive  anima 
tion,  his  step  unstudied,  and  his  sailor's  dress  suggesting 
the  freedom  of  the  wind  and  billow,  Cora  thought  that  she 
had  never  seen  so  bright  and  manly  a  youth. 

"  Oh,  here  is  my  brother — Mr.  Rapid,"  eagerly  said 
Linda,  half  to  Cora  and  half  to  Cassel,  as  he  approached. 

Cora  was  Car  more  surprised  than  when  she  learned  that 


OR   CORA    QLENCOE.  259 

the  girlish  Linda  was  the  Widow  Boyd  and  the  mistress 
of  Boyd  mansion.  Was  it  possible  that  this  school-boy 
was  Mr.  Cassel  P.  Rapid,  her  quasi  guardian  ?  and  was  he 
Linda's  brother  ? 

When  Cassel,  with  a  smiling  look  of  inquiry,  halted  be 
fore  Linda,  she,  glancing  at  Cora,  said, — 

"  Mr.  Rapid,  Miss  Huron  has  arrived, — permit  me  to 
present  you." 

Cassel,  in  defiance  of  cold  etiquette,  held  out  his  hand. 
Cora  looked  into  his  face,  and  after  an  instant's  hesitation, 
daintily  placed  her  hand  in  his. 

"  I  always  seek  the  grasp,"  said  Cassel,  pleasantly,  "  of 
any  coming  from  Creswood  under  the  blessing  of  Mr. 
Hope.  Have  you  just  arrived  ?" 

"Yes,  sir, — but  half  an  hour  ago." 

"  Sister,"  asked  Cassel,  turning  to  Linda,  "  is  everything 
comfortable  ?" 

"  If  it  is  not,  it's  your  fault,"  replied  Linda,  "  for  you 
have  been  away  on  the  water  altogether  out  of  season." 

"  This,"  said  Cassel  to  Cora — and  smiling  at  Linda,  "  is 
the  Queen  Bee  of  our  hive.  I  perceive,"  he  added,  glanc 
ing  into  Cora's  room,  "  that  she  has  given  you  a  sunny 
cell.  Do  not  let  her  spoil  you  with  favoritism." 

"  I  am  in  danger,  I  assure  you,"  said  Cora,  with  a  lovely 
blush  of  pleasure.  "  I  feel  so  very  much  at  home  already." 

"  You  are  at  home,"  replied  Cassel  with  that  smile  and 
pleasant  eye  of  his  which  never  failed  to  win.  "  But 
would  you  not  like  to  write  back  to  Creswood  announcing 
your  arrival  ?" 

"  I  would  indeed,"  replied  Cora. 

"  I  will  bring  you  writing  material,"  said  Cassel,  going 
to  his  own  room. 

"  Is  he  your  brother  ?"  asked  Cora  of  Linda. 

"  Oh,  no, — we  are  no  kin.  But  I  call  him  brother,  be 
cause  he  has  been  so  kind  and  noble  with  me.  I  have  no 
brother  of  my  own,  but  I  never  want  a  better  one  than 
brother  Cassel.  He  made  me  call  him  brother  when  I 
first  knew  him,  and  now  I've  got  so  accustomed  to  it  that 
I  would  hardly  know  bow  else  to  address  him.  Don't 
you  think  he  is  handsome  ?" 

"I  do,,"  answered  Cora. 


260  TEKEL, 

"Oh,  he  is  beautiful!"  said  Linda,  with  enthusiasm. 
"And  then  he  is  so  very,  very  thoughtful  and  kind;  so 
gentle,  to  be  a  man.  You  are  bound  to  love  him, —  you 
can't  help  it." 

"  Is  he  a  sailor  ?"  innocently  asked  Cora. 

"  No,"  replied  Linda,  laughing  at  the  question.  "  Did 
you  ever  see  a  sailor  with  so  white  a  hand  and  neck?  He 
has  just  returned  from  a  water  frolic." 

Cassel  now  reappeared  with  writing  material,  and  hand 
ing  it  to  Linda,  said, — 

"  Little  Urban,  do  the  dainty  duties  of  your  house  by 
depositing  these  in  Miss  Huron's  room." 

Once  upon  a  time,  Cassel  told  Linda  that  when  she 
ceased  to  be  a  country  girl,  and  got  to  be  a  city  lady,  he 
would  cease  to  call  her  little  Sylvan,  and  get  to  calling 
her  little  Urban,  when  he  did  not  use  the  privilege  of  ad 
dressing  her  as  "  sister."  The  time  had  already  come 
when  he  felt  justified  in  using  the  appellative  of  "little 
Urban."  Turning  to  Cora,  be  observed,  smilingly, — 

"  Miss  Huron,  in  Spanish  they  do  not  say  that  a  distin 
guished  person  'has  arrived,' — but  'has  finished  to  ar 
rive.'  You  have  simply  arrived.  When  you  have  written 
to  Creswood,  announcing  that  welcome  fact,  and  conveying 
to  Mr.  Hope  my  reverence  and  love,  then  you  will  have 
finished  your  arrival.  You  see  that  little  box — there  by 
the  window-side,  at  the  head  of  the  stairs  ?  That  is  our 
mail-box.  Place  your  letters  in  it,  and  they  will  go  out 
upon  the  first  train." 

Cassel  was  about  to  withdraw,  when  Lily  Lake  appeared 
at  the  head  of  the  steps,  and  seemed  waiting  for  an  encour 
agement  to  come  forward. 

"Come  here,  Lily,"  said  Cassel.  "Here  is  our  new 
friend." 

Li4y,  a  dulcet,  open-eyed  little  creature,  skipped  up  to 
Cora.  Cassel  duly  presented  her.  Cora  took  her  and 
kissed  her.  Lily  said, — 

"  Mamma  told  me  to  come  up  and  give  you  welcome.  He 
is  a  rogue,"  said  she,  abruptly,  pouting  and  turning  her 
eyes  upon  Cassel.  "  He  steals  kisses  from  me  every  day ; 
and  if  you  don't  mind  he  will  steal  'em  from  you." 

Cora  blushed,  and  Cassel,  bowing  to  her  in  gay  humor, 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  261 

and  as  if  he  would  as  soon  steal  a  kiss  as  not,  withdrew 
and  went  down-stairs,  but  soon  passed  back  again  to 
change  his  clothes.  Cora  invited  Lily  into  her  room. 

"No,"  said  Lily, — "  mamma  said  for  me  not  to  bother 
you,  but  to  give  you  welcome  and  come  away,  and  when 
you  got  rested,  that  I  might  come  to  see  you  some  days. 
May  I  ?» 

"Yes,  you  little  sweet!"  and  Cora  released  Lily,  after 
kissing  her  pretty  mouth  over  and  over.  Lily  ran  down 
stairs,  elated  with  the  success  of  her  welcome. 

Cosa  withdrew  to  her  room,  where  Linda,  with  her  own 
hands,  was  making  it  as  comfortable  and  tidy  as  possible. 

"  What  shall  I  call  you  ?"  asked  Linda. 

"Call  me  Cora." 

"  If  I  knew  that  you  would  like  me,"  said  the  girl- 
widow,  "  I  would  ask  you  to  call  me  Linda." 

"  I  already  like  you,"  answered  Cora,  whose  soft  eyes 
thrilled  with  that  appreciation  which  she  felt  but  had  not 
spoken. 

"  I  shall  love  you,"  said  the  artless,  open-hearted  Linda. 

"  I  am  certain  to  return  your  affection,"  responded  Cora, 
who  felt  a  world  of  need  for  something  to  love.  The  two 
girls  would  probably  have  gone  into  each  other's  arms, 
but  each  feared  that  the  other  might  think  such  a  demon 
stration  somewhat  foolish  or  overdone.  They  did  not  re 
flect  that  it  was  the  fashion  among  girls  to  be  foolish  and 
to  overdo  in  such  matters. 

Linda  left  Cora,  feeling  that  she  would  like  to  court  the 
pure-eyed,  statuesque,  self-dependent  girl,  with  whose 
lovely  face  and  sweet  manners  she  was  delighted  and 
charmed  In  doing  her  duty,  she  had  done  herself  a  pleas 
ure.  In  the  beginning,  she  was  essaying  to  satisfy  her 
brother  Cassel.  In  the  progression  and  conclusion,  she 
lost  sight  of  her  brother's  injunctions,  and  acted  from  self- 
impulse. 

Cora  was  fully  alive  to  her  exceeding  and  unlooked-for 
welcome,  and  realized  speedily  and  happily  that  she  would 
be  among  companions  in  the  Boyd  mansion.  She  wrote 
to  Mr.  Hope,  telling  him  that  the  sun  had  risen  clear, — 
giving  promise  of  a  cloudless  day. 

After  tea,  Linda  introduced  Cora  to  the  parlors,  where 


262  TEKEL, 

was  gathered  the  Boyd  colony, — except  Cassel,  who  was 
either  in  his  room  or  away  in  the  city,  and  except  Uncle 
Jesse,  who  stood  no  nonsense.  Mr.  Lake  was  first  pre 
sented  to  Cora.  He  was  a  middle-aged,  substantial,  good- 
looking  gentleman,  who  engaged  Cora  in  a  pleasant  con 
versation,  into  which  Mrs  Lake  soon  glided,— -next  Lily — 
and  then  Miss  Emma  Lake,  who,  having  received  an  in 
troduction,  was,  like  all  alert  and  adventurous  school- 
misses,  on  the  qui  vive  for  chums  and  accomplices.  The 
Misses  Rochester,  two  well-behaved  and  pretty  school 
girls  from  rural  New  York,  —  twins,  by-the-way,»-next 
joined  the  coterie.  Lastly,  Miss  Lightner,  the  school 
mistress, — a  cultivated  young  lady,  aged  about  twenty, 
completed  the  circle  which  gathered  about  Cora.  Each 
one  had  some  word  or  token  of  welcome  to  offer,  as  though 
the  colony  was  consanguineal,  and  Cora  a  returning  or 
rallying  member  of  it. 

An  uncommonly  agreeable  evening  sent  Cora  to  bed 
with  a  cheerful  feeling  at  her  heart. 

On  the  next  morning,  about  eleven  o'clock,  a  card  was 
handed  in  to  Cora.  She  took  it  and  found  the  name — 
Cassel  P.  Rapid — engraved  thereon. 

"  He  wishes  to  see  me  ?"  she  asked. 

"  Yes,  Miss  Huron,"  answered  the  servant.  "  He  is 
waiting  for  you  in  the  large  parlors." 

Cora  went  down  immediately.  She  did  not  touch  a  hair 
or  smooth  a  fold.  She  was  no  longer  afraid  of  Mr.  Cassel 
Rapid,  whom  sight  had  transformed  from  a  discreet,  grave 
gentleman,  into  a  rollicking  sailor-boy. 

Cora  entered  the  parlors  and  looked  around.  Cassel 
was  the  sole  occupant.  He  arose,  bowed  to  her  with  per 
fect  manner,  gave  her  a  chair,  and  seated  himself  in  front 
of  her. 

Cora  was  almost  overwhelmed  with  surprise  and  mod 
esty.  Before  her  was  a  young  gentleman,  seemingly  taller 
than  the  sailor-boy  of  the  day  before,  dressed  in  a  suit  of 
black  the  appointments  of  which  were  faultless,  and,  from 
top  to  toe,  looking  as  elegant  and  distinguished  as  a  young 
noble.  The  sparkle  of  his  eyes  had  receded  into  their  calm 
violet  depths,  and  the  boyish  brilliancy  and  holiday  glow 
of  his  countenance  had  given  way  to  a  magisterial,  intel- 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  263 

lectual  tranquillity,  beneath  which,  to  Cora's  eye,  slept 
the  power  and  magic  of  a  young  god.  She  almost  trem 
bled  with  a  sense  of  inferiority,  as  she  looked  upon  this 
prince  of  manliness  and  beauty, — so  rare,  complete,  and 
self-sustained.  She  waited,  half  demurely,  for  Cassel  to 
lead  the  conversation,  or  broach  whatever  subject  that 
might  have  prompted  him  to  solicit  her  company.  He 
commenced  to  talk.  Before  he  had  proceeded  far,  Cora 
forgot  herself,  attending  to  his  speech,  and  watching  the 
exquisite  light  and  play  of  his  comely  and  surpassing 
features.  Cassel  was  making  an  effort  for  ascendency, 
and  every  little  gesture  that  escaped  him  gave  weight  or 
point  to  its  accompanying  words.  He  continued  to  talk 
for  almost  half  an  hour,  without  giving  her  an  opportunity 
of  saying  half  a  dozen  words  ;  but  she  felt  no  disposition 
to  say — only  to  listen.  As  the  perfect  flower  unfolds 
itself  to  the  genial  sun,  leaf  after  leaf,  until  the  last  one  is 
open  to  be  read  of  its  beauty  and  snuffed  of  its  fragrance, 
so  did  Cassel  Rapid,  as  softly  and  consecutively  as  the 
opening  of  a  flower,  unfold  to  Cora  the  pages  of  her  prob 
able  future  in  the  giant  city.  Cora  was  given  thoroughly 
to  understand  her  status,  which,  from  the  evidence  present 
and  within  call,  promised  to  be  an  exceedingly  gracious  and 
agreeable  one. 

"Mr.  Hope,"  concluded  Cassel,  breaking  away  from  the 
magisterial  air  which  he  had  assumed,  and  resuming  his 
more  characteristic  one, — that  of  a  brother  to  all  young  in 
nocents  who  crossed  his  path, — "  has  favored  me  with  this 
pleasant  duty.  Look  upon  me,  therefore,  as  your  elected 
knight  and  counselor, — not  your  tyrant, — to  whom  you  may 
always  come  for  advice,  escort,  protection,  or  vindication. 
You  must  make  your  requisitions  on  me  as  freely  as  you 
would  dip  water  from  a  fountain,  for  the  pleasure  you  will 
give  me  by  doing  so  will  be  of  the  kind  which  never  tires 
or  cloys." 

"Mr.  Rapid,"  said  Cora,  with  a  thrilling  sweetness 
which  told  upon  Cassel's  heart,  "  I  was  totally  unprepared 
to  meet  so  much  tenderness  and  generous  encouragement 
from  your  friends  and  yourself.  I  am  conscious  that  to 
you  in  chief  I  am  indebted,  and  hope  you  will  believe  me 
when  I  tell  you  that  my  gratitude  will  never  sleep.  I 


264  TEKEL,  t 

confide  in  you,  and  therefore  accept  you  as  guide  and 
guardian,  and  hope  to  give  you  as  little  trouble  as  pos 
sible." 

"You  will  cause  me  no  trouble,"  said  Cassel,  and  then 
added,  as  if  to  himself,  "  such  as,  perhaps,  you  antici 
pate.  But  here,"  he  continued,  handing  her  a  sheet  of 
paper,  "is  a  Bill  of  Rights.  I  have  drawn  it  up  for  you, 
that  you  may  know  your  privileges,  and  not  be  imposed 
upon  by  the  servants.  You  will  be  under  no  restrictions 
except  those  of  your  own  conscience.  The  house  is  free 
to  you,  and  Linda — that  is,  Mrs.  Boyd — will  be  your  sister, 
if  you  will." 

"  I  did  not  imagine,"  said  Cora,  "  that  there  was  to  be 
found  such  a  home  for  me  as  this." 

"  You  have  found  it  nevertheless,"  replied  Cassel,  cheer 
fully,  "  and  I  do  not  doubt  that  you  are  worthy  of  it.  This 
afternoon — say  at  five  o'clock — I  wish  to  see  you,  here,  to 
arrange  your  studies  and  consult  about  your  teachers. 
You  will  please  bring  me  a  list  of  studies  in  which  you 
are  thorough,  another  list  in  which  you  are  advanced, 
and  still  another  upon  which  you  have  not  entered  but 
wish  to  enter.  And  now,  I  will  release  you,  until  the 
afternoon  appointment." 

As  Cora  withdrew,  she  cast  a  glance  back  at  the  young 
gentleman  who  was  so  kind  and  gentle  with  her ;  his  eye 
caught  hers,  she  blushed,  they  both  smiled,  Cora  escaped, 
and  Cassel  said  to  himself, — 

"  There  goes  my  wife — if  it  is  possible." 

This  was,  by  no  means,  love  at  first  sight,  for  Cassel  was 
among  the  very  last  to  be  so  flashed  upon ;  and  he  was  not 
— when  he  said,  "  there  goes  my  wife  " — in  love  with  Cora. 
He  did  not  know  but  that  her  heart  was  already  pledged, 
young  as  she  was  ;  and  should  it  be,  he  would  hardly  at 
tempt  to  distract  her,  or  to  undo  the  happiness  of  the  one 
to  whom  it  might  be  given,  by  filching  it  from  him.  But 
with  Cora's  unmistakable  loveliness  he  was  perfectly  satis 
fied, — as  much  so  as  if  he  had  known  her  for  seasons ;  for 
her  beauty  was  of  that  delicate,  pure,  and  sprightly  order 
— delicious  with  mingled  vigor  and  softness — about  which 
there  could  be  no  question  or  after-opinion,  and  about 
which  seemed  to  be  an  atmosphere  of  enchantment.  She 


OR    CORA    GLENCOE.  265 

possessed  it,  beyond  artifice  or  dispute,  and  the  beholder, 
whether  for  the  first  or  hundredth  time,  was  sure  to  see  it, 
and  feel  its  influence.  Her  face  was  inclined  to  the  oval  or 
Italian  cast,  and  was  almost  as  white  as  milk,  except 
where  it  was  tinted  by  health  and  suffused  with  modesty. 
Her  carmine  mouth  was  tender  and  tempting,  and  her 
firm  dark  eyes  were  soft  and  true,  and  exquisitely  con 
scious.  Her  character,  as  represented  to  Cassel  by  Mr. 
Hope,  was  as  complete  and  lovely  as  her  person.  Her  in 
telligence  and  natural  chaste  style  he  had  already  recog 
nized.  What  more,  therefore,  could  he  wish  to  know  ? 
Although  he  did  not  love  her  yet,  he  was  conscious  that 
he  would  do  so,  unless  some  accident  or  change  of  pro 
gramme  should  put  her  beyond  his  reach  and  sight.  He 
felt  that  she  would  be  his  equal,  and  fully  worthy  of  him, 
if  not  past-worthy.  His  first  prudent  action,  therefore, 
would  be  to  preserve  the  integrity  of  his  heart  if  possible, 
until  he  should  ascertain,  probably  from  Mr.  Hope,  other 
wise  by  finessing,  whether  or  not  she  herself  was  intact. 
If  he  should  be  convinced  that  Cora  was  free  from  all  en 
tanglement,  then  would  he  endeavor  to  entangle  her  in  the 
web  of  love. 

Cassel  Rapid's  associates  out  in  the  city  often  called 
him  Belvedere,  referring  to  the  unequaled  Apollo  in  the 
Belvedere  gallery  of  the  Vatican.  They  also  imagined 
that,  on  account  of  his  youth,  wealth,  and  singular  per 
sonal  beauty,  added  to  which  were  many  accomplishments 
both  manly  and  rare,  he  had  every  reason  in  the  world  to 
be  vain  and  haughty,  and  were  upon  occasions  surprised 
at  and  impatient  with  him,  when,  for  instance,  he  would 
stop  a  whole  party  of  aristrocratic  pleasure  seekers  of 
whom  he  was  one,  to  shake  hands  and  pass  compliments 
with  a  tanned  laborer,  or  lift  a  ragged  little  girl  over  a 
mud-hole. 

But  Cassel,  notwithstanding  the  opinions  of  his  asso 
ciates,  had  no  reason  whatever  to  be  either  vain  or  haughty. 
It  is  not  those  upon  whom  Nature,  in  conjunction  with 
Fortune,  has  bountifully  showered  her  surpassing  gifts, 
who  are  so  inclined.  It  is  only  those  to  whom  has 
been  vouchsafed  enough — just  a  little — to  make  fools  of 
them.  Some  there  be,  who,  having  only  a  proper  nose, 

23 


266  TEKEL, 

will  nose  their  way  through  the  world :  or  if  it  be  an  eye, 
they  will  ogle  you  here  and  ogle  you  there :  if  the  teeth, 
they  will  grin  out  their  mundane  existence :  and  if  the 
form,  they  will  strut  their  way  to  the  grave.  Cassel  had 
no  special  feature  which  he  considered  the  best,  or  desired 
to  thrust  forward.  He  did  not  make  his  diamond-mounted 
finger  any  more  prominent  than  his  unadorned  knuckles. 
He  did  not  attempt  to  repoise  his  head.  His  natural 
walk  being  the  easiest,  he  did  not  substitute  a  unique 
style  of  locomotion.  His  voluntary  smile  being  more 
ready  than  a  cultivated  smirk,  he  did  not  excruciate  his 
facial  nerves;  a  number  seven  boot  fitting  his  foot  com 
fortably,  he  did  not  wear  an  uncomfortable  number  six ; 
putting  himself  upon  his  individual  merits,  he  borrowed 
no  brilliancy  from  distinguished  relations,  dead  or  alive  : 
and,  altogether,  he  suited  himself  so  well,  that  he  essayed 
no  inordinate  improvement  upon  the  original  work ;  he 
would  but  keep  it  to  the  standard  of  its  originality  and 
true  capacity ;  the  only  trimming  of  Nature  which  sug 
gested  itself  of  any  great  importance,  was  the  occasional 
paring  of  his  nails,  and  the  shortening  of  his  hair ;  in  the 
multiplicity  of  his  good  looks,  he  could  well  afford  to  dis 
pense  with  the  greater  portion  of  his  capillary  attractions  ; 
for  he  did  not  aspire  to  the  dirty-naped  sect  of  the  long 
haired  distingue — and  consequently  his  hair  was  never 
suffered  to  soil  his  coat  collar  or  draggle  in  his  soup. 

Cassel  and  Cora  met  at  five  o'clock  in  the  afternoon. 
She  handed  him  a  small  memorandum-book,  and  then 
stood  modestly  by  his  chair,  pointing  him  to  the  entries 
in  the  little  book. 

"Here,"  said  she,  "is  Mr.  Hope's  enumeration  of  my 
studies,  including  finished,  unfinished,  and  not-commenced." 

"  Is  this  list  complete  ?"  asked  Cassel,  looking  up  pleas 
antly  into  Cora's  face. 

"  It  is  very  flattering,  and  possibly  in  excess  of  being 
complete,"  answered  Cora. 

"  Mr.  Hope  is  too  old,  and  too  sensible,  to  waste  time  in 
flattering  young  ladies,"  observed  Cassel,  with  negligent 
truth. 

"  You  consider  flattery  a  waste  of  time,  do  you  ?"  ven 
tured  Cora,  a  little  sportively. 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  26f 

"When  a  man  has  anything  else  in  the  world  to  do,  as 
few  have  not,  I  can  answer,  yes." 

"And  when  he  has  not?" 

"  Then  he  had  better  commit  the  Rash  Act." 

"  What — marry  ?"  asked  Cora,  with  bright  humor,  and 
greatly  at  fault,  for  she  remembered  to  have  heard  that 
marriage  was  considered  the  most  uncertain,  adventurous, 
and  probably  the  rashest  act  of  a  person's  life. 

"  No !  not  so  bad  as  that,"  laughingly  protested  Cassel. 
"I  meant  suicide." 

"  Self-slaughter  !"  was  Cora's  surprised  and  grave  re 
sponse. 

"  In  so  extreme  a  case  I  would  consider  it  justifiable 
homicide,"  observed  Cassel,  somewhat  drolly. 

"Don't  you  think  'justifiable'  is  a  misnomer?"  asked 
Cora,  who  felt  prompted  to  sound  the  moral  ethics  of  the 
young  gentleman  who  was  to  be  her  guide. 

Cassel,  who  was  perfectly  willing  to  dally  with  the 
young  girl,  asked,  in  pretended  earnest, — 

"  What — in  such  a  case  as  the  one  in  question  ?" 

"  In  any  case,  where  life  is  involved." 

Cassel  gave  a  quick  glance  into  Cora's  face.  Something 
in  her  voice  arrested  his  attention.  He  asked, — 

"  Are  you  serious  ?" 

"I  am." 

"  Well,  now,  if  it  is  a  matter  on  which  you  wish  to  get 
my  opinion,  'justifiable  homicide'  is,  like  almost  every  other 
phrase,  both  properly  and  improperly  applied,  as  the  case 
may  happen." 

"But  can  it  be  popularly  and  properly  applied,  in  any 
case  of  slaughter  by  one  person  of  another,  except  in  the 
event  of  pure  self-defense  from  imminent  murder  ?" 

"  Are  there  no  crimes  which  merit  death  ?  no  exigen 
cies  which  render  the  dealer  thereof  justifiable  ?"  asked 
Cassel  just  a  little  sternly. 

"But  the  laws  should  visit  it." 

"  The  law,  in  some  of  its  functions,  is  like  a  broken  and 
contemptible  vessel,  holding  neither  wrath  nor  retribution 
over  the  outlaw — holding  nothing.  It  is  the  law  itself 
which,  in  peculiar,  instead  of  repressing  or  punishing 
crime,  forces  true  men  to  become  ferocious  and  bloody 


2f58  TKKEL, 

gladiators,  avenging  their  own  unrighted  wrongs.     But 
you  are  too  innocent  of  the  world  to  understand  me." 

"  To  kill  is  a  wretched  and  extreme  resort, — an  act,  in 
my  opinion,  which  kills  the  soul  of  him  who  slays  the 
body,  be  it  his  own  body,  or  that  of  another." 

"  Pallida  mars,"  said  Cassel,  reflectively:  "it  is  an 
extreme  resort;  but  there  are  times  when  nothing  but 
death  itself  is  due.  When  you  have  lived  longer,  you, 
also,  may  think  so." 

Here  again  was  that  long-time  prophetic  asseveration 
of  "when  you  have  lived  longer," — "when  you  grow 
older," — "  when  you  see  more  of  the  world,  to  know  it." 
The  woodland  maiden  asked  herself  "What  is  this  mystic 
knowledge  which  age  and  experience  is  to  bring  me  ? 
Am  I  so  unlike  to  others  that  I  do  not  see  creation  and  its 
laws  and  duties  as  the  intelligent,  vast  world  sees  them  ? 
What  is  my  lack,  or  my  fault  ?  I  feel  that  my  mind  is 
clear,  but  in  all  my  contact  with  those  who  have  gained 
knowledge  from  experience  I  am  set  at  naught  as  too  young 
to  know." 

Cora's  reflections  were  interrupted  by  Cassel,  who  said, 
in  continuation, — 

"  However,  we  are  off  the  subject  entirely.  Let  us  get 
back  to  our  books." 

Cora  had  seen  one  man  killed,  almost  at  her  feet.  From 
her  earliest  recollection  she  had  lived  in  the  same  house 
with  a  strange  being,  who,  she  had  recently  learned  from 
Carroll  May's  family  history  as  written  by  Captain  Gale,  • 
was  a  man-slayer.  Ordinarily,  she  avoided  the  subject  of 
human  blood.  But  she  was  prone,  by  circumstances,  to 
think  of  it.  As  far  as  she  had  discussed  it  with  Mr.  Hope, 
she  had  found  him  and  herself  well  agreed.  She  was  now 
called  upon  to  place  herself  under  the  guidance  of  Cassel 
Rapid,  a  youth  of  whom  she  knew  nothing  except  from 
good  report.  Any  subject,  therefore,  the  discussion  of 
which  might  indicate  to  her  his  inner  character,  was  likely 
to  be  seized  upon,  especially  the  one  just  now  so  briefly 
treated  between  them,  however  abrupt  or  slight  the  oc 
casion  might  be.  As  she  stood  close  up  to  Cassel,  her 
hand,  which  was  pure  of  every  stain,  touching  his,  in  fact, 
as  they  were  exchanging  the  memorandum-book,  with 


OR   CORA   GLENCOE.  269 

what  freezing  horror  would  she  have  sprung  away  from 
him,  and  shrunk  from  the  touches  of  that  hand,  which, 
with  all  its  mustered  might,  had  driven  the  dagger  to  its 
hilt  in  a  human  heart,  and  would  do  it  again  and  again, 
and  a  thousand  times  again  under  like  incentive,  had  she 
but  known  or  guessed  the  simple  fact  that  there  was  hu 
man  blood  upon  it !  In  Cora's  code  were  copied  the  words, 
"  Thou  shalt  not  kill."  They  were  underscored  by  well* 
remembered,  painful  experience,  more  of  which  she  de 
voutly  wished  that  neither  age  nor  mystic  revelation 
would  ever  bring  her  ;  for  she  felt  that  nothing  which  the 
future  might  reveal  would  ever  temper  her  mind  to  forget 
or  ignore  the  ancient  saying,  "  Thou  shalt  not  kill." 

"  Do  you  prefer  male  or  female  teachers?"  asked  Cassel. 

"In  most  branches  of  learning  I  prefer  the  male,"  an 
swered  Cora. 

"  Why  the  male  ?"  asked  Cassel,  who  was  already  dis 
posed  to  be  a  little  jealous  of  the  hours  which  Cora  might 
spend  with  her  masculine  instructors. 

"  Because,"  answered  she,  "  I  think  that  possibly  I 
might  derive  more  benefit  by  coming  in  contact  with  the 
masculine  mind." 

"You  regard  the  brain  of  our  sex,  then,  as  stronger 
than  that  of  your  own  ?" 

"  I  regard  it  as  different, — not  so  minute,  but  perhaps 
more  comprehensive, — certainly  ruder  and  stronger." 

" Hence,"  said  Cassel,  jocularly,  "the  expression,  'strong- 
minded  women,'  as  applied  to  those  of  your  sex  who  affect 
masculine  heads  and  masculine  capacity." 

"That  may  be,"  answered  Cora  "I  know  nothing 
about  it ;  there  are  none  such  in  my  old  neighborhood." 

"  How  do  you  think  that  /  would  suit  you  as  your  in 
structor  in  General  Philosophy  ?"  asked  Cassel. 

"  You  /"  exclaimed  Cora,  startled  into  an  exhibition  of 
too  much  surprise. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Cassel. 

"  You  are  too  young,"  said  Cora,  as  if  announcing  an 
unquestionable  fact. 

Cassel  felt  himself  blush  beneath  Cora's  honest  eyes  and 
words  ;  for  she  had  told  him  exactly  the  truth.  However 
well  he  may  have  been  advanced  in  the  different  branches 

23* 


270  TEKEL, 

of  Philosophy,  he  could  not  have  combined  experience 
with  reading,  and  was  not,  in  the  broad  sense,  competent 
to  distill  those  golden  drops  which  Cora  was  in  search  of. 
She  wanted  the  results  and  deductions  of  the  gray  head, 
and  not  those  of  untried  and  half-initiated  youth. 

"  Please  do  not  feel  hurt,  Mr.  Rapid,"  said  Cora  very 
sweetly,  as  she  saw  Cassel's  color  rise. 

"  Hurt,"  replied  Cassel  while  his  eyes  rested  somewhat 
investigatingly  upon  her, — "  I  will  answer  you  as  Linda — 
Mrs.  Boyd,  I  mean — once  answered  me  :  '  I  am  not  hurt 
at  all, — I  am  ashamed.'  You  have  put  your  answer  per 
tinently  and  upon  the  very  point, — I  am  too  young.  But 
a  less  truthful  person  than  yourself  would  have  objected 
in  some  other  and  less  acceptable  way.  Always  treat  me 
thus,"  said  Cassel  in  a  deep,  impressive  tone,  "  and  we 
shall  be  the  best  of  friends." 

Cora's  value  had  instantly  doubled  in  Cassel's  estima 
tion,  and  he  meantime  had  gained  greatly  upon  her ;  for 
as  she  looked  at  him  in  his  modest  susceptibility  and  in 
telligent  beauty,  she  felt  that  about  him  was  a  charm 
which  would  give  him  mastery  wherever  he  might  seek  it. 
He  continued : 

"  You  have  truly  said  that  I  am  too  young  to  teach 
you  Philosophy, — for  I  am  in  the  very  springtime  of  my 
life  and  acquisition.  What,  therefore,  could  I  tell  you  of 
Life's  Summer — its  Autumn — or  its  Winter  ?  Under  Mr. 
Hope  you  have  progressed  well,  as  I  see  from  your  note 
book  ;  especially  in  all  ethical  studies.  You  should  have 
finished  your  philosophical  education  under  him,  so  far  as 
it  can  be  finished  at  the  school-desk.  His  venerable  years, 
intelligent  mind,  and  pure  principles  well  fitted  him  for 
pouring  out  the  limpid  Truth  ;  whereas,  should  I  engage 
you  an  instructor  here,  I  fear  that  he  would  mingle  with 
the  Truth  the  subtlety  and  venom  of  Metaphysics.  I 
divide  Philosophy  into  only  two  parts — tangible  and  in 
tangible — material  and  immaterial.  The  first  is  demon 
strable  to  the  senses  of  the  eye,  ear,  touch,  etc.  ;  the 
second  must  be  grasped  and  turned  over  in  the  mind.  In 
material  Philosophy  you  are  registered  high  by  Mr.  Hope, 
who  has  marked  '  sufficient '  opposite  each  branch  upon 
which  you  have  been  engaged.  To  immaterial  Philosophy 


OR   COKA    GLEXCOE.  2U 

numberless  fountains  contribute,  but  none  of  them  are 
pure  but  one,  which  is  not  only  pure  but  exhaustless.  I 
have  it  for  you,  here — if  you  will  come  and  look,"  and 
Cassel  led  the  way  to  a  center-table,  on  which  was  a 
handsome  Bible.  Turning  to  a  fly-leaf,  Cassel  pointed 
Cora  to  an  inscription  which  presented  the  book  to  Miss 
Cora  Glencoe  Huron,  and  beneath  which  was  signed  the 
names  of  all  the  members  of  the  Boyd  colony,  including 
that  of  Uncle  Jesse  and  of  Lily  Lake. 

"Let  this,"  said  Cassel,  "be  your  teacher,  as  I  am 
satisfied  it  has  been.  No  eye  hath  seen,  or  heart  felt,  or 
tongue  told,  what  you  will  not  find  within  its  compass. 
If  the  lion  is  bold,  this  is  bolder ;  if  the  sea  is  deep,  this  is 
deeper;  if  the  world  is  wide,  this  is  wider;  if  there  is 
beauty  in  the  universe,  it  is  in  the  matchless  pensiveness 
of  the  parables  of  Christ.  '  Consider  the  lilies  of  the 
field,  how  they  grow ;  they  toil  not,  neither  do  they  spin  : 
and  yet  I  say  unto  you,  That  even  Solomon  in  all  his  glory 
was  not  arrayed  like  one  of  these.'  Be  you  therefore,  my 
young  friend,  a  '  Lily'  whose  modest  pure  loveliness  puts 
to  shame  the  pomp  and  magnificence  of  princes,  and  is  by 
Christ  himself  exalted  above  the  glory  and  grandeur  of 
imperial  thrones." 

Cassel  was  by  no  means  pedantic  in  what  he  had  to 
say,  but  earnest  and  tender.  Cora  was  thrilled  to  the 
heart,  and  her  speaking  eyes  told  truly  what  she  felt. 
She  suitably  acknowledged  the  sacred  gift  of  the  Boyd 
colony,  and  almost  repented  that  she  had  not  accepted 
Cassel  as  her  preceptor  in  Philosophy,  he  seemed  so 
gentle,  and  faultless,  and  firm. 

Cassel  and  Cora,  between  them,  arranged  the  pro 
gramme  of  her  studies,  and  Cora,  whose  means  were 
ample,  would  soon  be  well  provided  with  teachers,  whose 
duty  it  would  be  to  instruct  her  in  various  accomplish 
ments,  solid  and  light,  at  the  Boyd  mansion. 

"  Now  for  a  matter  of  business,"  said  Cassel.  "  Here 
is  a  blank  check-book,  with  the  name  and  style  of  the 
banking-house  where  your  funds  are  deposited.  When 
you  need  money,  check  on  Sarazzin  &  Sarazzin,  pass  the 
check  to  me,  and  I  will  draw  the  money  and  deliver  it  to 
you.  And  although  your  cash  account  will  be  accurately 


272  TEKEL, 

kept  by  the  banking-house,  you  must,  as  a  sort  of  business 
lesson,  keep  it  also,  in  this  little  book,  a  pass-book  by-the- 
way." 

"  Is  this  not  a  Jew  house  ?"  asked  Cora. 

"Yes." 

"  Do  you  do  business  with  Jews  ?" 

"  Why  not  ?» 

"  I  thought  they  were  all  dishonest." 

"  Who  taught  you  that  ?" 

"No  one.  I  absorbed  the  opinion,  seemingly  from  a 
rife  atmosphere." 

"And  from  the  same  atmosphere  you  might  have  ab 
sorbed  rheumatism  or  earache.  But  did  you  ever  see  a 
Jew?" 

"  Do  you  mean  a  Hebrew  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  I  do  not  know  that  I  ever  did." 

"  Do  you  know  what  a  Hebrew  is  ?" 

"A  human  being!"  answered  Cora,  half  amazed  at  the 
question.  "  A  descendant  of  Abraham." 

"  Very  true — and  of  whom  are  we  the  descendants  ? 
Of  some  other  man,  who,  by  all  odds,  is  not  near  so  illus 
trious  or  hoary  with  record  as  Abraham.  A  Jew  or  a 
Gentile,  under  the  same  circumstances,  is  pretty  much  the 
same  manner  of  man,  with  the  balance,  if  any,  probably 
in  favor  of  the  Jew.  Listen  to  me  but  a  moment  on  this 
subject — for  although  I  am  not  of  their  faith,  there  is  a 
charm  and  invincible  fortitude  about  the  Jews,  which 
excite  silent  wonder  and  admiration,  if  not  open  applause. 
Among  all  the  races  on  the  face  of  the  globe,  I  do  not 
think  that  there  has  been,  or  is  one,  which  would  have 
emerged  from  more  than  eighteen  centuries  of  persecution, 
slaughter,  pillage,  and  doglike  treatment,  with  as  many 
marks  of  its  grand  old  ancestry  upon  it  as  have  the  Jews. 
There  is  probably  not  a  race  which  would  have  left  even 
an  idiot  to  tell  the  tale  of  its  former  existence.  The 
Chaldeans,  who  of  old,  crossed  cimeters  with  them,  are 
extinct.  Babylon,  which  held  them  captive,  is  dust. 
Rome,  which  drew  tributary  coin  from  Christ  himself,  is 
in  ruins,  cowering  beneath  the  mailed  hand  of  an  alien. 
Greece,  which  supplied  an  almost  universal  language  for 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  273 

the  Hebrew  Scriptures,  sits  impotently  upon  the  Mediter 
ranean,  the  ghost  of  glory.  On  the  contrary,  the  Jews 
now  influence  the  councils  of  the  greatest  nations  of  the 
earth.  But  I  will  not  preach  you  a  sermon  about  the 
Jews.  I  will  only  say  this — trust  neither  Jew  nor  Gentile 
until  you  know  the  man,  and  even  then  trust  yourself  the 
most.  But  back  again  to  business.  Linda  tells  me  that 
you  have  need  of  a  dress-maker.  If  it  will  be  agreeable 
to  you,  we  will  all  go  out  to-morrow,  and  arrange  for  your 
wants." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Cora.  "Nothing  would  please  me 
better,  or  be  more  timely." 

"  It  is  very  pleasant  shopping  when  one  has  plenty  of 
money,"  pleasantly  observed  Cassel.  "  Linda  enjoys  it 
so  much  that  it  is  a  delight  to  go  with  her.  I  believe, 
however,  that  such  enjoyment  is  common  and  peculiar  to 
the  sex.  In  contrast,  there  are  few  things  which  gentle 
men  so  dislike  and  postpone  as  the  preliminaries  necessary 
to  the  securing  of  a  seasonable  wardrobe." 

"  But  when  it  is  secured  they  are  fond  enough  of  dis 
playing  it,"  said  Cora,  with  playful  raillery. 

"Not  so  fond  but  that  the  ladies  are  yet  fonder." 

"We  are  all  weak,"  said  Cora,  "and  abide  in  glass 
houses." 

"  And  should  therefore  throw  kisses  instead  of  stones," 
somewhat  encroachingly  rejoined  Cassel,  at  whose  remark 
Cora,  in  trying  not  to  blush,  blushed  the  deeper  and  more 
charmingly. 

On  the  following  day  Linda,  Cora,  and  Cassel  went  to 
the  establishment  where  Linda,  under  Cassel's  auspices,  had 
obtained  her  first  nice-fitting  dresses,  and  where  the  female 
portion  of  the  Boyd  colony  were  accustomed  to  deal.  ^ 
•  Madame,  very  well  pleased  with  the  idea  of  securing  a 
new  and  promising  customer,  and  equally  satisfied  with 
Cora's  looks  and  symmetry,  exerted  herself  both  profes 
sionally  and  socially  to  please  to  the  uttermost. 

She  went  with  the  trio  to  numberless  shops  where 
were  kept  all  the  fineries  and  niceries  requisite  to  make 
a  young  girl  look  as  Beautiful  as  a  Butterfly.  She  se 
lected,  rejected,  explained,  suggested,  and  badgered  the 
salesmen  with  effective  ability. 


274        .  TEKEL, 

"  You,"  said  she  to  Cora,  "  can  wear  any  color  you  like. 
It  is  true,  your  face  is  very  white,  but  your  complexion  is 
so  pure  and  healthy  and  your  blushes  so  accurate  and 
enhancing,  that  you  may  dictate  to  the  colors  instead  of 
being  restricted  by  them.  I  propose  to  get  you  up  a 
regular  rainbow  wardrobe — a  different  color  for  each  day 
in  the  week,  with  intermediate  tints  for  morning  and  mid 
day  lounging." 

"  I  never  lounge,"  replied  Cora,  laughing. 

"But  you  must  learn  to  lounge,"  humorously  and  sin 
cerely  insisted  the  rnadame,  as  if  it  were  the  most  ravish 
ing  thing  of  all  others  to  be  done.  "Mrs.  Boyd  has 
learned  it,"  continued  she,  tapping  Linda's  cheek  play 
fully  and  chucking  her  under  the  chin, — "and  I  know  that 
Mr.  Rapid  indulges  himself." 

Cora  was  in  a  sea  of  novelty  and  enjoyment.  Like 
every  other  sensible,  spirited  young  girl,  she  was  delighted 
with  her  outfitting  expedition,  and  examined  goods,  laces, 
trimmings,  and  all  sorts  of  female  trumpery,  with  spark 
ling  eyes  and  palpitating  heart. 

Back  again  at  the  dress-maker's  establishment,  after 
Cora's  dimensions  had  been  taken  and  recorded,  the  ma- 
dame,  apart  with  Cassel,  said, — 

"  Mr.  Rapid,  your  friends  are  so  easy  to  fit.  I  have 
no  angles  to  turn,  bones  to  overlay,  or  hollows  to  fill. 
There  is  Mrs.  Lake,  and  her  children,  and  Miss  Lightner, 
all  good  forms.  Mrs.  Boyd  is  still  better.  But  Miss 
Huron  is  a  young  Venus,  and  as  shy  as  a  chamois.  It 
is  a  rare  delight  just  to  take  her  measure."  And  madame 
smiled  knowingly  at  the  young  man. 

Cassel  only  smiled  in  return  at  this  rather  indelicate 
language — for  madame  was  French,  and  he  didn't  care ; 
he  could  stand  anything  which  she  might  venture  to  say, 
particularly  if  it  complimented  Cora  or  developed  her  to 
him.  He  had  not  doubted  the  young  girl's  symmetry, 
and  yet  it  was  pleasure  to  him,  faintly  voluptuous,  to  have 
it  confirmed  and  whispered  into  his  ear  by  this  female 
latitudinarian  who  was  just  from  manipulating  Cora's 
virgin  form. 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  275 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

CASSEL'S  day  with  Cora  among  the  shops,  dress-makers, 
and  milliners,  and  the  darling  sweetness  with  which  she 
conducted  herself  through  all  the  turmoil  and  vexing  inde 
cisions  consequent  upon  such  a  day,  set  him  seriously  to 
thinking.  He  was  beginning  to  thirst  for  her  society.  He 
was  sensible  that  he  must  get  nearer  to  her,  or  get  away 
from  her  altogether. 

He  wrote  to  Mr  Hope.  We  will  make  a  few  extracts 
from  the  old  minister's  reply. 

"  I  am  satisfied,"  wrote  Mr.  Hope,  "  that  Cora's  heart 
is  essentially  free.  She  has  had  but  little  opportunity  to 
form  any  but  school-room  attachments.  She  doubtless  has 
had,  and  may  yet  have,  her  preferences  ;  but  the  only  pre 
ference  which  might  have  fallen  into  a  loving  attachment, 
of  which  I  have  the  least  knowledge,  was  restrained  from 
that  course  by  the  influence  of  events  in  the  family  history 
of  either  party.  I  refer  in  this  connection  to  Carroll  May. 
You  have  not  seen  him  since  you  were  both  little  curly- 
headed  pets  of  Creswood, — you  the  elder,  I  believe,  by  a 
couple  of  years.  He  is  a  very  promising  youth,  though 
perhaps  somewhat  hasty,  or  touchy,  in  his  temper.  He 
goes  to  New  York  this  winter  to  seek  his  fortune, — and 
probably  too  confident  that  it  is  there." 

Mr.  Hope,  at  no  little  sacrifice  of  ease  and  expenditure  of 
ink,  then  explained  to  Cassel  the  non-intercourse  which  had 
so  long  existed  between  Cora  and  Carroll,  mentioned  their 
many  years'  occupation  of  the  same  school-room,  gave  it 
as  his  opinion  that  they,  though  silent,  had  been  somewhat 
affected  toward  each  other,  and  would  probably  have  be 
come  permanently  attached,  but  for  that  life-long  inhibition 
ordered  by  Oswald  Huron,  and  of  which  the  reader  is  well 
aware.  What  changes  the  recent  developments  in  regard 
to  Cora's  parentage  would  superinduce,  he  was  not  able  to 
foresee.  He  then  gave  Cassel,  in  this  connection  and 
anew,  the  history  of  the  Huron  war. 


276  TEKEL, 

"  The  result,"  wrote  he,  "appears  mainly  to  rest  upon 
the  finding  of  Maria  Guthr-ie,  the  Huron  nurse,  and  pro 
ducing  her  or  her  depositions. 

"  Oswald  Huron  surprised  every  one  by  the  consecutive 
calmness  with  which  he  conducted  himself,  and  the  ability 
with  which  he  managed  his  cause. 

"Neville  Huron  did  not,  in  all  probability,  sufficiently 
heed  the  advice  of  Hector  O'Dare,  Captain  Gale,  and 
others,  but  placed  too  much  reliance  upon  the  lawyers,  old 
friends  of  his,  whom  he  sent  here  from  Philadelphia.  It 
has  long  been  considered  a  tough  stocking  that — which 
'Philadelphia  lawyers'  cannot  unravel;  but  in  this  in 
stance,  they  failed, — or  fell  behind  their  reputation.  They 
probably  did  not  anticipate  meeting  the  first  legal  talent 
of  Maryland,  and  when  they  learned  that  it  was  to  be 
Sparta  against  Sparta,  with  all  the  advantages  of  arms 
and  preparation  on  the  other  side,  it  was  too  late  to  correct 
their  position.  Hence  the  compromise,  which  they  were 
glad  enough  to  effect,  and  which  they  could  not  have  ef 
fected  had  it  materially  changed  the  immediate  destiny  or 
disposition  of  Cora,  as  contemplated  by  Oswald  Huron. 

"  But  now  to  the  matter  which  you  no  doubt  consider 
as  greater  in  importance  than  all  the  foregoing.  '  Do  I 
object  to  your  striving  to  win  Cora  while  she  is  under  my 
guardianship  ?'  I  will  answer  you  as  though  she  were 
my  own  daughter,  or  you  were  my  son.  You  may  win 
her,  if  you  can, — but  you  must  not  woo  her  :  that  is,  you 
may  simply  secure  her  heart,  but  do  not  bewilder  her,  or 
fritter  away  her  time.  You  will  understand  me  I  am 
convinced.  I  have  an  interest  in  Cora — I  have  almost 
raised  her.  She  is  overly  dear  to  me,  and  will  be  to  all 
who  may  know  her.  She  will  soon  be  sought  after, 
whether  I  will  it  or  not.  You  are  just  a  little  wild,  my 
dear  boy, — or  have  I  forgotten  my  youth  when  I  say  so  ?" 

Cassel  thought  that  the  old  minister  had  certainly 
forgotten  when  he  was  a  green  sprig.  The  letter  con 
tinued  : 

"  However,  I  have  an  old  man's  affection  for  you;  also, 
I  trust  you.  Comply,  then,  with  my  wishes,  and  you  have 
my  consent  to  win,  if  you  can,  a  precious  little  gem  of 
'purest  ray  serene.'  But  remember  that  my  consent  is 


OR  CORA   GLENCOE.  277 

a  very  limited  one.  It  is  that,  merely,  of  Mr.  Hope,  whose 
propriety  and  right  in  the  matter  might  well  be  ques 
tioned  in  toto.  You,  however,  have  had  the  sense  and 
delicacy  to  perceive  my  moral  responsibility  and  to  regard 
my  wishes, — which  is  an  argument  in  your  favor  and 
against  those  anticipated  ones  of  whom  I  know  not,  but 
who,  I  am  aware,  will  be  blind  to  the  one  and  disregard 
the  other.  In  conclusion,  Cora  is  very  young,  but  you 
cannot  catch  her  with  chaff." 

Mr.  Hope  desired  to  do  right, — not  simply  to  make  an 
appearance  of  doing  right ;  for,  as  well  as  not,  he  might 
have  referred  Cassel  to  Cora's  kindred.  But  what  Cassel 
Rapid  or  any  other  young  Rapid  would  have  paid  any 
heed  to  the  reference  ?  To  have  approached  Cora's  kin 
dred  on  such  a  subject,  at  this  time,  would  probably  have 
opened  anew  the  controversy  of  which  the  absolute  pos 
session  of  herself  was  the  instance  and  aim.  It  was  not 
likely  that,  at  this  period,  either  of  the  warring  brothers 
would  give  up  the  contested  child  to  a  stranger,  or  look 
with  much  favor  upon  any  who  might  seek,  by  carry 'ng 
off  the  subject  of  dispute,  to  dissolve  the  feud.  Before 
Cassel  could  court  Cora's  father,  the  law  must  recognize 
some  one  as  being  her  father.  And  it  was  not,  nor  is  it 
now,  the  fashion  to  speak  to  the  "  old  gentleman"  until 
all  the  arrangements  have  been  perfected  to  do  as  well 
without  as  with  his  consent.  Nowadays,  when  a  political 
incumbent  happens  to  oversleep  himself  in  the  morning, 
the  departments  are  instantly  flooded  with  applications  to 
fill  an  anticipated  vacancy  Cassel  did  not  wish  to  ap 
pear  quite  so  precipitate  as  that  with  Cora's  family.  He 
thought  it  only  due  to  Mr.  Hope,  in  consideration  of  the 
reciprocity  between  them,  and  in  view  of  the  old  minis 
ter's  conscientious  responsibility,  that  he  should  acquaint 
him,  and  solicit  his  consent  Mr.  Hope  was  aware  of 
several  things.  Among  them  were,  that  early  attachments 
are  generally  the  most  tender  and  lasting,  if  not  the  best; 
that  Cassel  would  rarely  ever  find  another  Cora,  and 
Cora  hardly  ever  find  another  Cassel ;  that  his  refusal  or 
objection  would  only  restrain  the  young  man  during 
Cora's  wardship, — if  so  long, — and  that  if  Cassel  had  made 
up  his  mind  to  have  Cora,  he  would  have  her  if  he  had 

24 


2T8  TEKEL, 

to  seek  her  at  the  recently-discovered  sources  of  the  Nile, 
granting  that  she  would  have  him.  In  giving  his  con 
sent,  Mr.  Hope  did  his  best ;  and  few,  if  any,  could  have 
done  better  than  the  old  minister's  best. 

Cassel  was  almost  satisfied.  His  sky  was  pretty  clear, 
but  there  was  still  a  little  cloud  in  sight. 

What  was  the  nature  of  Cora's  preference  for  Carroll 
May  ?  and  was  it  very  tender  and  very  permanent  ? 

What  was  bringing  Carroll  so  opportunely  to  the  city 
of  New  York  ? 

Was  it  Cora  ? 

Or  was  it  the  every-day  necessity  under  which  the 
young  man  rested,  of  providing  for  that  unromantic  ex 
igency — a  support  ? 

Exigency  may  be  defined  as  a  short,  quick  want. 

Life  is  short. 

Its  wants  are  quick. 

Much  quicker  than  its  supplies. 

Quicker  than  lightning — and  more  permanent. 

The  whole  of  Life  is  an  exigency — an  emergency — to 
which  few  of  us  are  equal. 

There  never  has  been  and  will  never  be,  probably,  a 
temper  better  toned  for  happiness,  enjoyment,  and  con 
tent  than  the  temper  of  Cassel  Rapid.  Normally,  his 
spirit  was  airy,  free,  and  upward.  To  submerge  it  was 
almost  impossible.  Like  the  cork  upon  the  billow,  it 
\YOuld  outride  the  wildest  storms,  and  dance  upon  the 
foaming  rage  of  the  churned  seas.  But  he  had  passed 
through  a  deathly  experience,  and,  at  times,  felt  its  legacy 
most  heavily.  Although  he  had  slain  Jonas  Aiken, — and 
would,  without  ruth,  slay  every  such  demon  within  reach 
of  his  arm, — he  suffered  from  no  pang  of  remorse ;  for 
under  the  incentive  which  had  actuated  him,  he  would,  if 
need  be,  stand  out  against  the  whole  world,  and  every 
voted  law  therein.  But  often — not  too  often — he  went 
down  into  the  very  depths  of  sadness  after  the  memory 
of  his  lost  sister.  His  father's  fate  had  been  swallowed 
up  by  the  fate  of  Diana — his  matchless,  thrilling  young 
sister, — having  been  regarded  by  him  as  the  heritage — a 
common  one — of  an  adventurous  life  upon  the  verge  of 
civilization. 


OR   CORA    OLENCOE.  279 

But  Cassel  was  constituted  to  encounter  a  great  deal, 
and  still  be  happy  in  the  main.  Unlike  many  who  find 
it  impossible  not  to  be  wretched,  he  found  it  equally  im 
possible  not  to  be  habitually  buoyant  and  joyful.  Joy 
was  the  native  element  of  his  breast.  Sorrow  was  an 
alien  there,  an  invader,  a  tyrant ;  and  his  nature  revolted 
against  it,  and  cast  it  out,  as  the  stomach  rises  up  and  ex 
pels  the  nauseating  emetic. 

•  Cassel,  though  not  vain,  was  nothing  daunted  when  he 
came  to  think  of  Carroll  May.  He  judged  that  Cora  might 
have,  in  times  past,  preferred  Carroll  simply  from  looking 
at  him  across  the  room  of  a  country  school  and  contrast 
ing  him  with  his  fellows.  But  he  was  satisfied  that  their 
souls  were  not  entwined  in  that  Gordian  knot  which  no 
skill  can  untie,  and  which  it  would  be  a  sin  to  cut.  Never 
theless,  when  Carroll  should  come  to  New  York,  he  would 
seek  him  out ;  and  if  he  found  him  worthy  of  his  lance, 
and  so  disposed,  they  would  buckle  on  their  armor,  each, 
and  tilt  it  out.  The  prize  herself  should  be  the  umpress. 
Cora  should  drop  the  hat,  and  decide  the  contest. 

But  notwithstanding  Cassel's  superiority  over  Carroll 
in  everything  that  lays  its  spell  upon  a  maiden's  heart, 
if  Carroll  should  decide  to  enter  the  lists,  victory  might 
hover  long  before  it  perched.  For  although  Cassel  Rapid 
might  pillage  Cora's  heart  of  all  its  store  of  tenderness, 
and  wind  her  arms  about  his  neck  in  an  agony  of  love  and 
passion,  Carroll  May  was  already  templed  in  her  secret 
compassion,  and  she  might  turn  away  from  the  finely- 
carved  Parian  which  stood  securely  on  its  plinth,  to  sup 
port  the  coarser  but  tottering  Granite  from  falling  at  her 
feet, — for  compassion  in  the  bosom  of  a  noble-natured  girl 
is  only  less  potent  than  love,  and,  if  properly  cared  for, 
may  be  turned  to  love.  Between  Cora  and  Cassel  there 
were  no  time-hallowed  associations.  She  now  knew  him 
for  the  first  time.  The  only  things  in  common  with  them 
were  the  few  acquaintances  whom  he  remembered  near 
her  old  home,  and  the  outlines  of  Creswood.  But  Cora 
and  Carroll  held  much  common  property  between  them. 
They  could  go  back  and  talk  of  their  childhood,  and  of 
their  early  youth  when  at  school  they  secretly  strove  to 
outstrip  each  other  in  their  progress  up  the  Hill  of  Science, 


280  TEKEL, 

and  of  the  innumerable  things  which  hedged  their  path 
way  up  that  immemorial  Hill.  They  could  talk  of  the 
neighborhood,  the  forest,  the  sea,  the  strand,  the  Tarpeian 
Rock,  and  of  everything  which  Creswood  held  that  to 
either  of  them  was  beautiful,  strange,  quaint,  or  cosy, — 
or  had  been.  Carroll  could  throw  out  a  skirmisher  by  tell 
ing  Cora  how  he  and  Johnny  Gale  used  to  love  her,  and 
talk  of  her,  and  dream  about  her,  when  they  were  young 
cubs  and  she  was  a  fay.  In  addition  and  conclusion,  Car? 
rol  was  a  sensible,  handsome,  engaging,  resolute  youth, 
who  could  create  a  sensation  in  the  breast  of  almost  any 
country  girl  whom  he  might  endeavor  to  surround  and 
capture. 

Hector  0 'Dare's  head-quarters  were  in  the  city  of  New 
York,  where  he  kept  a  regular  office.  The  day  following 
the  receipt  of  Mr.  Hope's  letter,  Cassel  Rapid  went  to 
O'Dare's  office.  The  detective  liked  Cassel,  regarding  him, 
as  he  said,  "  clear  stuff  and  diamond  grit." 

"  (rood-morning,  Mr.  Two-forty,"  said  O'Dare,  alluding 
to  Cassel's  name  of  Rapid. 

"  Good-morning,  Mr.  Nose,"  retorted  Cassel,  alluding  to 
O'Dare's  profession  of  nosing  out  things  which  were  hid 
den  or  astray. 

"  I  capitulate,"  rejoined  the  detective,  laughing.  "  Take 
a  seat  and  con  over  your  sins." 

"How's  business?"  asked  Cassel. 

"  Oh,  pretty  brisk.  I  have  on  hand  now, — let's  see," 
and  O'Dare  turned  to  a  ledger, — "  one  lost  child,  one  runa 
way  couple,  two  heavy  swindlers,  some  big  money,  a  four- 
carat  diamond,  the  bones  of  a  dead  man,  and  the  tongue 
of  a  live  woman,  or  her  skeleton,  if  dead.  Also  some  old 
cases,  and  some  cases  sub  rosa." 

"  I  have  a  case  for  you  myself,"  said  Cassel. 

"  What  is  it  ?"  asked  O'Dare,  with  some  interest ;  for 
he  remembered  Cassel's  past  peculiar  application,  and  the 
stern  result  of  it. 

"It  is  certainly  a  case  sub  rosa,  for  I  do  not  wish  to  be 
known  in  it, — and  it  may  be  a  case  subsoil,  for  all  that  I 
know  about  it,"  answered  Cassel. 

"  I  shall  have  to  get  me  a  platoon  of  grave-diggers, 
and  keep  me  a  hungry  hyena  in  leash,"  said  O'Dare, 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  281 

drolly.  Then,  opening  his  ledger,  he  requested,  "  Let's 
have  the  particulars,  Mr.  Rapid." 

"It  is  possible  that  I  have  been  anticipated,"  said 
Cassel,  "  for  there  are  others  more  directly  concerned 
than  myself." 

"  Give  me  an  outline,  or  an  odor,  and  I'll  tell  you  in  a 
moment  if  I  have  been  put  upon  the  scent." 

Cassel  explained  to  O'Dare  the  nature  of  his  applica 
tion. 

"  You  are  the  third  man  in  search  of  that  woman's 
tongue,  or,  if  she  be  dead,  her  skeleton,"  answered  the 
detective.  "First, — Neville  Huron  of  Philadelphia;  con 
test  for  a  daughter.  Second, — Carroll  May  of  Creswood, 
Maryland ;  for  family  reasons.  Third, — Cassel  Rapid  ; 
reasons  best  known  to  himself." 

"  In  whose  service  are  you  then  engaged  ?" 

"  In  Neville  Huron's.  He  is  wealthy  and  able  to  pay. 
Young  May  might  be  able,  but  it  would  take  all  he  has. 
Furthermore,  Mr.  Huron's  interest  is  prime,  to  my  own 
knowledge.  What  young  May's  interest  is  I  am  unable 
to  say.  And  what  Cassel  Rapid's  interest  is  I  do  not  care," 
said  the  detective,  suggestively,  "  unless  he  chooses  to 
tell  me." 

O'Dare's  manner,  in  his  last  six  words,  conveyed  the 
most  delicately-pointed  hint  imaginable.  When  he  was 
engaged  upon  any  piece  of  business  he  endeavored  to  get 
into  his  own  hands  all  radial  or  convergent  lines  to  or 
from  it.  He  would  like  to  know  Cassel  Rapid's  interest, 
therefore. 

"  I  don't  take  your  hint  at  all,"  responded  Cassel, 
amusedly.  "  It  is  of  no  consequence  whatever  to  either 
you  or  the  case,  O'Dare,  or  I  would  not  hesitate  to  state 
my  interest  in  full.  To  do  so,  however,  would  not  assist 
you  or  obstruct  you  a  flea's  leap." 

"  But  a  flea  leaps  pretty  far  sometimes,  and  always 
jumps  to  the  point,"  urged  the  detective. 

"  Never  mind  the  flea,"  answered  Cassel,  who  took  up 
his  hat  and  bid  O'Dare  "good-morning." 

Cassel  went  home,  wondering  if  Carroll  May  was  inter 
esting  himself  in  the  Huron  war  as  a  young  lawyer,  or 
in  Cora  Grlencoe  as  a  young  lover.  If  the  latter,  might 

24* 


282  TEKEL, 

it  not  mean  more  than  Cassel  would  like  to  hear  ?  He 
was  getting  to  be  somewhat  anxious  about  Cora,  and  was 
becoming  conscious  that  this  anxiety  was  the  outgrowth 
of  something  else  which  had  taken  root  and  was  sprout 
ing  within. 

Hector  O'Dare,  active  man  that  he  was,  was  again  at 
Creswood.  He  had  so  timed  his  visit  as  to  meet  Captain 
Gale  at  Gale  Island.  He  interviewed  the  captain,  asked 
him  a  round  of  questions  about  Maria  Guthrie,  and  made 
notes. 

"  What  is  her  religion  ?"  continued  O'Dare. 

"  Now,  what  in  thunder  do  you  want  to  know  that 
for  ?"  asked  Captain  Gale,  who  had  already  answered  a 
number  of  questions  which  he  considered  irrelevant. 

"  For  a  good  and  lawful  reason,"  urged  O'Dare. 

"  What  is  it  ?  I  would  like  to  know  for  curiosity's  sake," 
said  Captain  Gale. 

"  Very  well.    I'm  to  find  Maria  Guthrie,  dead  or  alive." 

"Yes." 

"  Suppose  she  is  dead,  and  in  heaven." 

"You  will  never  find  her,"  laughed  Captain  Gale. 

"  Suppose,  then,  that  she  is  dead,  and  not  in  heaven." 

"  You  may,  perhaps,  reach  her,"  again  laughed  the  cap 
tain. 

"  I  will  at  least  rattle  at  the  gate  and  inquire  for  her," 
said  O'Dare,  with  a  dare-devil  look,  which  indicated  that 
he  would  almost  as  soon  take  a  tussle  with  Pluto  as  not. 
"  But  tell  me,  was  she  a  Catholic,  a  Protestant,  or  a  non- 
professor  ?" 

"  She  was  a  Roman  Catholic,"  answered  Captain  Gale. 

"Now,  you  see,"  said  the  detective,  "my  whip  has  a 
handle.  That  single  answer  is  equal  to  a  mouth's  search." 

"  When  do  you  commence  your  search  ?" 

"  I'm  commencing  it  now.  But  I  have  to  go  back  fifteen 
years  and  work  it  up  to  date.  It  may  take  a  year  to  find 
her — two  years  even.  I  can't  do  it  at  once  any  more  than 
you  can  raise  a  stalk  of  tobacco  at  once.  You  have  to 
burn  your  bed,  sow  your  seed,  draw  your  plants,  set  them 
out,  wait  for  them  to  grow,  keep  the  worms  out,  cut  before 
frost,  and  there  you  are." 

Captain  Gale  now  had  an  opportunity  of  making  use  of 


OR   CORA    OLENCOE.  283 

a  simile,  which  was  one  of  a  family  of  favorites  with  him, 
and  which  he  was  delighted  to  know  he  had  never  used  in 
O'Dare's  hearing. 

"And,"  replied  the  captain,  somewhat  eagerly,  and 
making  sure  of  the  opportunity,  "  as  tobacco  often  ends  in 
smoke,  this  search  may  end  in  smoke  likewise." 

"  Just  so,  or  ashes — the  ashes  of  the  dead,"  answered 
O'Dare.  "  But  if  she  is  alive,  I'll  smoke  her  out, — if  she  is 
buried,  I'll  find  her  head-stone  in  some  Catholic  cemetery." 

"  Are  you  a  Roman  Catholic  ?" 

"  I  am  half  Catholic,  half  Protestant,  and  half  world 
ling." 

"You  are  one  half  too  many,"  said  the  mariner. 

"  No — I  consider  myself  at  least  a  man  and  a  half. 
Here  is  the  way  I  count.  There  is  a  class  of  men  which 
I  write  down  as  0, — another  class  which  I  write  up  and 
down  as  a  stick,  thus,  |, — from  which  I  go  into  an  ascend 
ing  scale  of  vulgar  fractions,  |,  %,  j?,  ^,  £,  %,  ^,  until  I 
arrive  at  the  standard,  which  is  the  unit,  1,  and  makes  a 
very  good  man.  I  claim  to  be  1^, — you  are  at  least  1|, — 
young  Rapid  is  1^,  and  will  make  two,  in  time, — Johnny, 
your  son,  will  make  1^,  but  not  before  he  is  twenty-eight 
or  thirty  years  old ;  and  so  on,  not  to  mention  such  men 
as  Webster,  Calhoun,  Clay,  Jackson,  and  others,  who 
were,  in  their  day,  at  least  three  figures — anywhere  from 
100  to  999.  Of  all  the  men  in  the  earth,  Washington  is 
the  only  one  who  ever  attained  to  the  round  1000." 

"  You  rank  Washington,  then,  above  the  Roman  Pon 
tiff, — you  do  not  subscribe  to  the  dogma  of  the  Pope's  in 
fallibility." 

"  I  consider  all  men  fallible — very  fallible ;  popes,  pre 
lates,  preachers,  potentates,  presidents,  politicians,  peas 
ants,  peoples,  Man,  Adam." 

"  O'Dare,  do  you  ever  read  the  Bible?" 

"  I  rarely  read  any  other  book.  It  is  the  philosopher's 
stone  which  men  have  so  long  been  searching  for,  but 
which  few  have  found.  They  turn  away  from  its  hoary, 
moss-covered  edges,  to  peck  among  agates,  flint-bl«ssoms, 
and  drift,  expecting  to  find  it  there,  or  its  effects, — gold, 
dross, — and,  like  maggots  working  in  corruption,  spend 
fruitless  lives  burrowing  in  the  vomit  of  volcanoes." 


284  TEKEL) 

"  Very  good,"  said  Captain  Gale.  "  I  am  glad  to  learn 
that  you  are  a  philosophizer.  Although  some  one  has 
said  that  we  all  philosophize,  and  that  philosophize  we 
well  or  ill  we  must  philosophize,  yet  you  are  a  man,  I  take 
it,  who  is  accustomed  nicely  to  balance  one  thing  against 
another,  and  to  make  all  sides  of  a  case  fit." 

"Just  so,"  responded  the  detective. 

"What  think  you,  then,  of  the  incident  in  Scripture 
where  Christ  casts  out  devils  from  a  man,  and  permits 
them  to  enter  into  a  valuable  herd  of  swine,  thereby 
causing  the  herd  to  pitch  into  the  sea  and  be  choked." 

"  I  think  it  was  fun  for  the  devils,  but  pretty  rough  on 
the  swine,"  answered  O'Dare. 

"  Pshaw  I"  said  Captain  Gale, — "  I  do  not  want  any 
'  negro  minstrel'  reply.  How  do  you  reconcile  such  appar 
ently  wanton  destruction  of  animals  and  property  to  the 
character  of  Christ?" 

"  In  several  ways.  In  the  first  place,  it  might  have  been 
a  very  bad  breed  of  hogs,"  said  the  practical  O'Dare,  at 
whom  Captain  Gale  could  not  forbear  a  laugh.  "  Sec 
ondly,  it  was  better  for  the  devils  to  go  into  the  swine 
than  to  remain  in  the  man  who  was  a  terror  to  the  neigh 
borhood, — so  that  the  situation  was  at  least  improved  if 
not  perfected.  Thirdly,  swine's  flesh  was  by  no  means  a 
favorite  dish  in  Jewry,  nor  is  it  yet.  Moses,  by-the-by, 
must  have  known  of,  or  anticipated,  Trichina.  But  seri 
ously,  and  lastly,  and  wholly,  it  was  as  competent  and 
reconcilable  for  Christ,  visible,  to  permit  those  malicious 
devils  to  destroy  a  few  swine — probably  as  an  illustration 
— as  it  is  for  God,  invisible,  to  have  permitted  and  still  to 
permit  the  Prince  of  Devils  to  roam  abroad  in  the  Earth, 
wrenching,  and  distorting,  and  tormenting  it  with  Wars, 
Famines,  Fires,  Floods,  Earthquakes,  Pestilences,  Pangs, 
and  Politics, — and  yet  it  is  so,  and  God  wills  it,  else  his 
will  is  not  omnipotent.  But  do  not  clog  and  mystify 
your  mind  in  a  vain  eifort  to  comprehend  and  classify  the 
universe — to  reconcile  or  adapt  human  ideas  to  the  facts 
which  *neet  us  at  every  step,  or  to  fathom  those  facts. 
Why,  for  instance,  is  one  person  born  to  a  palace  and 
another  to  a  plow  ?  Why  is  one  normally  healthy  another 
abnormally  unhealthy  ? — one  deformed,  even  hideous,  and 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  285 

unfitted  for  any  enjoyment,  another  beautiful  and  full  of 
life  and  joy  ? — one  naturally  well-tempered  and  predisposed 
to  good,  another  ill-gotten  and  predisposed  to  evil  ?  You 
may  say  that  Eternity  will  compensate  for  all  this,  if  we 
only  cast  ourselves  at  the  feet  of  Christ.  But  how  is  it 
with  that  part  of  animate  creation,  which,  when  it  dies, 
will,  according  to  the  general  belief,  know  no  resurrection — 
the  beasts,  the  birds,  the  fishes,  the  insects  ?  One  trout  is 
hooked  for  dinner,  while  the  next  one  escapes  to  live  and 
sport  in  its  liquid  home.  Go  out  into  the  forest — at  your 
feet  is  a  dead  bird,  while  above  you,  in  the  tree  near  by, 
is  another,  of  the  same  brood,  merrily  singing.  Go  among 
the  farmers — one  horse  is  bred  a  stallion,  to  be  pampered, 
and  another  is  unsexed,  to  sweat  at  the  plow.  One  young 
chicken  cock  is  garnished  for  dinner,  and  its  ma,te  is  des 
tined  to  be  the  Brigham  Young  of  a  dozen  or  more  good 
fat  wives.  In  the  far  untrodden  jungle,  one  royal  lion  is 
captured  and  caged  for  the  museum,  and  another  continues 
to  roam,  the  king  of  his  haunts.  I  have  seen  beasts  as 
wretched,  and  beasts  as  happy,  as  I  have  seen  men  and 
women.  Their  accountability  is  nil,  and  yet,  like  us,  they 
have  their  vicissitudes  as  though  under  some  elfin  domin 
ion.  If,  therefore,  there  is  no  future  for  them,  what  is 
going  to  compensate  the  unfortunate  among  them  for  the 
inequalities  of  this,  their  only  life  ?  Back  again  to  immor 
tality.  At  what  time  does  the  spirit  enter  into  human 
flesh  ?  It  may  be  when  the  babe  first  kicks  in  its  mother's 
womb.  Granted  that  it  be  so,  a  still-born  child  is  neces 
sarily  sinless,  and  its  soul  has  a  swift,  untried  passage  to 
heaven.  Whereas,  had  the  child  lived,  it  might  have 
chosen  the  road  to  hell.  If  I  could  have  my  choice,  I 
would  choose  to  have  been  born  alive,  but  to  have  expired 
upon  my  first  breath,  and  while  my  little  body  was  being 
decked  for  the  tomb,  my  soul  to  have  been  received  into 
the  arms  of  angels,  and  borne,  without  stain,  back  to  God 
who  gave  it.  But  all  these  things  are  not  only  beyond 
our  comprehension,  but  beyond  our  control  as  well.  We 
are  the  abject  creatures  of  an  incomprehensible  Power, 
whose  manifestations,  gauged  by  the  square  and  compass 
of  our  philosophy,  are  by  no  means  calculated  to  inspire 
the  faith  that  He  is  all  Love,  all  Compassion,  all  Mercy, 


286  TEKEL, 

and  all  Justice.  For  such  attributes,  combined  with  om 
nipotent  power,  would,  in  our  groveling  opinions,  have 
avoided  the  necessity — if  such  there  be — of  sin,  and  sor 
row,  and  mournings,  and  lamentations.  But,"  said  O'Dare, 
breaking  off,  "we  see  where  such  investigations  will  lead 
us — or  rather,  we  do  not  see.  The  Bible,  in  one  sense,  is 
like  the  road  from  Creswood  to  Snow  Hill ;  it  is  the  only 
known  route.  Do  not  reject  that  Route  for  the  reason 
that  it  may,  like  the  Snow  Hill  road,  have  numberless  by 
paths  leading  we  know  not  where.  However,"  concluded 
O'Dare,  laughing,  "  I  am  not  an  ordained  minister,  and 
can  do  no  better  with  you  than  to  leave  you  in  the  hands 
of  Mr.  Hope,  or  his  son  Garland,  both  of  whom  I  take  to 
be  very  excellent  men." 

As  O'Dare  shook  hands  with  Captain  Gale  and  left  him, 
the  latter  marveled  to  himself  thus  : 

"  Who  would  have  thought  that  this  wiry,  sharp-nosed, 
busy  detective,  had  ever  put  his  mind  to  such  things.  But 
it  is  so, — each  person  imagines  that  he  himself  does  the 
most  occult  thinking  of  any,  when  the  very  next  person— 
the  most  improbable  person  perhaps — may  suggest  what 
had  never  before  occurred  to  the  self-sufficient  inquirer." 

O'Dare  left  Creswood  and  went  back  to  New  York.  He 
felt  more  interest  in  the  search  for  Maria  Guthrie  than  in 
all  the  other  cases  on  his  docket,  for  he  had  suffered  his 
feelings  to  become  involved  in  the  Huron  war,  attributable, 
however,  to  his  admiration  of  Cora  Glencoe,  and  his  love 
of  an  intricate  piece  of  business.  Neville  Huron  had  in 
structed  him  to  prosecute  the  search  without  regard  to  the 
cost,  and  he  was  preparing  to  weave  a  web  over  the  en 
tire  continent,  which,  when  he  should  draw  it  in,  would 
have  Maria  Guthrie  or  her  remnants  wound  up  it  it. 

"  O'Dare,"  asked  Cassel  Rapid,  stepping  into  the  detec 
tive's  office,  "  what  is  the  news  from  Creswood  ?" 

"  Nothing." 

"  No  news  of  Mrs.  Guthrie  ?" 

"None  of  your  business, — I'm  not  in  your  employ," 
impudently  responded  the  detective. 

"  See  here,  O'Dare,  do  you  want  me  to  loosen  your 
front  teeth  for  you  ?" 

"  You  could  not  do  that,  with  all  your  athletic  train 
ing." 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  287 

"  I  might  if  I  should  try ;  and  you  might  have  been  in 
my  employ  had  you  been  disposed  to  act  the  rogue.  But 
to  the  point :  I  am  Miss  Huron's  guardian,  here  in  the  city, 
and  would  like  to  know  if  there  is  any  probability  of  sup 
plying  the  absent  link  in  the  chain  which  is  to  loose  her 
from  one  father  and  bind  her  to  another." 

"  The  link  is  as  uncertain,  and  as  unlocated,  as  the  next 
gold  nugget  is  to  the  miner.  At  this  moment  I  am  in  a 
fog,  and  without  chart  or  compass.  I  can  tell  you  abso 
lutely  nothing,  except,"  continued  O'Dare,  provokingly 
and  maliciously,  "  that  Captain  Gale  still  lives  on  oysters." 

With  a  gesture  combining  impatience,  good-fellowship, 
and  banter,  Cassel  passed  out  of  O'Dare's  office  and 
strolled  at  random  through  the  city. 

At  leisure,  he  wandered  away  from  the  turmoil  of  busi 
ness,  far  among  the  thronged,  pleasant,  and  stately  man 
sions  of  the  fortunate  and  wealthy,  and  gazed  about  him 
with  an  eye,  not  of  envy,  but  rather  of  indolence.  While 
thus  recreating,  he  met  a  couple  of  fine,  frolicsome-looking 
young  fellows,  whom,  at  a  glance,  he  recognized  as  being 
from  the  country  The  two  strangers  were  Carroll  May 
and  Johnny  Gale,  but  Cassel  neither  knew  them,  nor  they 
him.  Carroll  and  Johnny  seemed  captivated  with  the 
singular  comeliness,  genial  countenance,  and  faultless 
outfit  of  Cassel  Rapid,  and  they  regarded  him  so  openly 
and  with  such  undisguised  appreciation,  that  he,  as  he 
passed  them,  bowed  to  them,  and  very  pleasantly  said, — 

"  How  are  you,  gentlemen  ?" 

They  spoke  freely  in  response,  and,  as  he  passed  on, 
stopped  and  looked  at  him,  imagining,  and  with  good 
reason,  that  he  was  the  very  tip-top  of  the  young  "  bloods" 
of  the  city.  After  a  few  steps,  Cassel,  who  was  always 
attracted  by  anything  fresh,  rustic,  and  unsophisticated, 
turned  about  and  discovered  the  two  young  fellows  gazing 
at  him  and  smiling.  With  considerable  humor  in  his  face 
and  tone,  he  asked, — 

"  Are  you  lost?" 

The  boys  both  laughed. 

"Yes — we  are  lost,"  acknowledged  Johnny. 

"  I  knew  it,"  said  Cassel,  with  a  friendly  smile.  "  What 
part  of  the  country  are  you  from  ?" 


288  TEKEL, 

"  Maryland." 

"  Maryland  ?     What  portion  of  the  State  ?" 

"From  Creswood — on  the  eastern  shore." 

"Lightning!"  cried  Cassel,  all  the  fun  of  his  nature 
springing  to  his  face.  "Here's  sport — right  here.  Hold 
up,  now, — I  want  to  name  you  This  is  Johnny,  and  this 
is  Carroll." 

The  eyes  of  the  boys  widened  with  infinite  wonder  and 
anticipation.  Presently  Johnny  Gale  shouted, — 

"It's  Pony!  it's  Pony!  God,  but  it's  Pony  Rapid!"  And 
he  and  Carroll  pitched  on  to  Cassel  and  almost  devoured 
him  up. 

A  policeman  approached  and  said, — 

"  Gentlemen,  you  must  preserve  order, — you  are  making 
entirely  too  much  fuss  here." 

"Polly,"  said  Cassel,  turning  to  the  mercenary,  "you 
are  so  fresh,  fertile,  and  green,  that  your  club-stick  is  bud 
ding.  Go  back  to  your  Station  and  get  instructions.  By 
to-morrow  morning  the  trees  on  your  beat  will  all  have 
leaves  on  them,  winter  as  it  is." 

The  policeman  walked  away  somewhat  abashed,  and  in 
a  state  of  mental  perplexity  regarding  the  true  and  practi 
cal  construction  of  his  orders ;  for  that  was  his  first  day  of 
service,  and  he  was  under  a  strict,  though  false  impression, 
as  to  what  constituted  public  peace. 

Johnny  and  Carroll  were  almost  wild  with  delight. 
Cassel  was  equally  glad  to  meet  them,  but  being,  in  a 
measure,  blase  on  travel  and  surprises,  he  was  not  so 
boisterous  in  his  manifestations. 

"  Boys,"  asked  he,  "  where  are  you  bound  ?" 

"  We  were  hunting  for  our  hotel." 

"  You  are  altogether  out  of  the  line  of  hotels  here," 
said  Cassel.  "There  is  not  a  regular  hotel  within  a  mile 
of  this  spot.  But  come,  we'll  take  a  car,  and  you'll  dine 
with  me  at  a  saloon." 

Away  they  went,  to  a  fashionable  eating-house,  and 
Cassel  took  the  liberty  of  ordering  for  three. 

"  What  brought  you  up  to  the  city  ?"  asked  Cassel. 

"  1  am  going  into  somebody's  law  office,"  said  Carroll. 

"Johnny,  what  is  your  scheme?" 

"  Going  into  the  exchequer  of  the  Whiteeap,"  answered 


OR   CORA   OLENCOE.  289 

Johnny,  with  a  laugh  so  ticklish  that  Cassel  and  Carroll 
were  bound  to  keep  him  company. 

"  Johnny  has  a  wild  colt  in  him,  I  see,"  observed  Cas 
sel  to  Carroll,  "  and  it  will  take  a  year  or  two  to  trot  it 
out.  As  he  will  need  no  assistance  in  his  particular, 
pleasant,  and  sonlike  enterprise,  I  shall  not  offer  him  my 
good  services ;  but  you,  Carroll,  have  you  made  an  en 
gagement?" 

"Not  a  positive  one.  I  have  had  some  encouragement 
by  correspondence,  but  I've  no  idea  whether  I  shall  suc 
ceed  or  fail  in  getting  a  position, — such  a  one  as  will  sup 
port  me.  Johnny  is  studying  civil  engineering,  and  is 
here  in  that  interest.  Uncle  Gale  advised  me  to  come 
here  also,  and  to  make  or  break  at  the  law, — and  further 
more,"  said  Carroll,  laughing,  "  to  keep  Johnny  from  break 
ing  his  neck." 

"  Carroll,"  said  Cassel,  "do  not  make  any  permanent 
arrangement  for  several  days.  I  know  of  a  good  posi 
tion  which  you  can  probably  get,  if  it  has  not  been  filled. 
It  is  with  a  first-class  law  firm.  They  are  particular,  and 
have  been  trying  for  two  weeks  to  get  suited  in  an  office 
man.  They  want  some  one  for  several  years,  and  are  not 
so  nice  as  to  what  he  may  know  in  the  beginning,  but  base 
their  preference  on  the  ultimate  promise  of  the  applicant. 
I  think  your  face,  fist,  and  tongue,  with  my  recommenda 
tion,  will  suit  them." 

"  I  am  much  obliged  to  you,  Cassel,  and  will  be  glad  to 
advise  with  you.  '  When  can  I  see  them  ?" 

"  I  will  take  you  round  to-morrow.  Meantime  I  will 
see  them  myself,  this  afternoon,  after  I  have  shown  you 
and  Johnny  to  your  hotel.  Have  you  any  idea  where 
you  are  ?" 

"  Not  the  most  remote.  I  only  know  that  we  are  in 
New  York." 

"  Come  here — to  the  front  door.  Now  look  across  the 
street.  Do  you  recognize  the  building  ?" 

"Jupiter  !  That  is  our  hotel !"  cried  Johnny  and  Car 
roll  with  one  voice. 

"  Yes,"  said  Cassel,  "  but  you  get  a  better  dinner  here 
than  you  do  there.  Here  the  dishes  are  cooked  separately ; 
there  they  are  all  cooked  together,  where  an  oyster  tastes 

25 


290  TEKEL, 

of  pudding,  and  pudding  tastes  of  hot  salad,  and  salad 
tastes  of  mince-meat,  and  it  all  tastes  of  steam, — wilted 
as  it  were." 

After  a  hearty,  jolly,  and  re-enforcing  dinner,  Cassel 
went  alone  to  the  law  office  of  Hallum  &  Gore. 

"  Good-afternoon,  Mr.  Rapid,"  said  Mr.  Gore,  the  only 
partner  present.  "  Have  a  seat,  sir." 

'  You  are  busy,"  suggested  Cassel. 

'  I  can  spare  a  few  moments." 

'  Have  you  secured  an  assistant?" 

'  No." 

'  Do  not  close  with  any  one,  then,  until  I  bring  a  friend 
of  mine  around  to  see  you  to-morrow.  I  think  he  will 
suit  you.  He  is  a  fine  young  man,  well  educated,  and 
gentlemanly.  He  has  been  a  student  of  Maryland  law, 
but  can  soon  fall  into  your  ways.  His  father  was  a 
better  lawyer  than  either  you  or  Mr.  Hallum,"  said  Cassel, 
with  good-humored  but  incisive  honesty,  "and  from  what 
I  have  heard,  and  conjecture,  the  son  will  sustain  his  an 
cestry." 

"  You  are  very  candid,"  replied  Mr.  Gore,  with  a  smile 
half  sardonic,  half  amused. 

"  On  business,  with  business  men,  I'm  as  blunt  as  the 
back  of  a  wedge.  I  am  not  depreciating  you  or  your  firm, 
but  simply  telling  you  the  truth." 

"  The  truth  is  quite  refreshing,"  said  Mr.  Gore.  "  It  is 
not  very  often  that  we  get  a  breath  of  it  in  these  pre 
cincts." 

"  I  hope  it  won't  make  you  sick,"  replied  Cassel,  gayly. 
"  If  it  does,  just  swallow  a  professional  prevarication  by 
way  of  antidote  or  emetic."  And  Cassel  went  upon  the 
street. 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  291 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

CASSEL  RAPID,  who  knew  the  family  history  of  Carroll 
May,  was  generously  disposed  to  assist  the  young  man, 
and  secure  to  him  a  good  fair  start  in  the  race  of  life. 
Cassel's  sympathy,  wherever  bestowed,  was  strong,  active, 
and  practical,  and  did  not  end  in  words  if  deeds  were  ap 
propriate.  Carroll  was  now  an  object  of  special  interest 
with  him,  chiefly  on  account  of  his  life-long  orphanage  and 
dependence, — subordinately  on  account  of  his  life-long  con 
nection  and  disconnection  with  Cora  Glencoe. 

In  Cassel's  mind  were  several  propositions.  The  first 
was  one  of  benevolence  ;  for  in  his  youthful,  limited  sphere, 
he  was  actuated  by  the  same  impulses  of  nobility  and  com 
passion  which  hallow  the  name  of  George  Peabody,  whose 
grand  and  solemn  requiem  has  just  been  chanted  by  bound 
less,  oceanic,  and  celestial  voices,  and  the  appreciation  of 
whose  gifted  life  bows  down  the  famed  heads  of  Europe 
and  America  now  weeping  out  his  world-wide  obsequies. 
Cassel's  benevolent  purpose  will  explain  itself  when  he 
acts  upon  it,  which  will  be  done  almost  immediately. 
Again,  with  regard  to  Cora  it  was  Cassel's  purpose  to 
deal  frankly  and  liberally  with  Carroll.  If  Cora  loved 
Carroll — which  he  could  scarcely  bring  himself  to  imagine 
except  when  he  thought  of  the  "  family  reasons"  which 
Hector  O'Dare  had  stated  as  the  basis  of  Carroll's  interest 
in  the  search  for  Marie  Guthrie — then  the  die  was  already 
cast,  and  he  would  not  attempt  to  upset  it.  For  Cassel 
wanted  first  love,  and  not  that  which  had  been,  or  by  any 
possibility  might  have  been,  kissed  and  whinnied  over. 
But  if  Cora  was  free,  then  Cassel  would  endeavor  to  win 
her  without  wooing  her,  in  compliance  with  the  injunc 
tions  of  Mr.  Hope.  Again:  he  would  first  establish  Carroll 
May  in  business  and  in  the  line  of  promotion,  after  which 
he  would  seek  an  understanding  with  Carroll.  His  own 
position  as  quasi  guardian  giving  him  a  certain  and  great 
advantage,  should  he  see  proper  to  use  it,  he  felt  that  to  be 


292  TEKEL, 

wholly  generous,  and  to  put  himself  solely  upon  his  indi 
vidual  merits,  it  would  be  right  to  encourage,  if  not  to 
urge,  Carroll,  if  the  young  lawyer  was  in  the  least  so  dis 
posed,  to  try  his  fortunes  with  Cora.  He  was  sensible 
that  Carroll,  who  himself  possessed  some  advantages, 
might  eventually  succeed ;  but  he  reflected  that  he,  Cassel 
Rapid,  would  never,  if  he  knew  or  suspected  it,  become 
the  husband  of  any  girl  unless  she  preferred  him  above  all 
others, — and  unless  she  had  enjoyed  the  opportunity  of  be 
stowing  herself  in  perfect  harmony  with  the  secret  tender 
desires  of  her  own  heart. 

If  all  persons  were  as  fastidious  as  Cassel  Rapid  was, 
there  would  be  few  weddings  in  this  world,  for  it  is  a 
very  rare  thing,  particularly  rare  with  a  woman,  to  get 
the  coveted  one.  Frail,  weak,  patient,  lovely,  and  loving 
woman  is  generally  the  chosen — not  the  chooser.  But 
God  wills  it  so — else  it  would  not  be  so.  In  this  sinful 
and  sacrificial  world,  the  weak  must  succumb  to  the 
strong, — virtue  must  lurk,  while  vice  stalks  through  the 
glorious  and  goodly  places  of  the  earth.  Oh,  for  some 
keen,  invincible,  and  universal  sword  of  Justice,  to  flash 
throughout  the  broad  round  earth,  and  set  all  odds  even ! 
But  we  might  as  well  invoke  Christian  charity  from  the 
Devil.  It  is  Death,  and  only  Death,  who  may  solve  the 
mystery  of  Life,  and  set  all  odds  even. 

In  the  morning  Cassel  took  his  two  young  friends  to 
the  office  of  Hallum  &  Gore.  Mr.  Gore  was  the  leader 
of  the  firm, — the  oyer  and  terminer.  Leaving  Carroll 
and  Johnny  with  Mr.  Hallum,  Cassel  and  Mr.  Gore  re 
tired  to  a  consultation-room. 

•'  Mr.  Gore,"  said  Cassel,  "  I  have  confidence  in  my 
young  friend,  and  I  have  confidence  in  your  firm,  and  I 
am  satisfied  you  will  suit  him,  and  he  will  suit  you.  If 
he  does  suit  you,  what  are  you  willing  to  pay  him  per 
year,  and  what  advantages  do  you  promise  him  ?" 

"  I  can  answer  you  precisely.  If  he  suits  us,  we  will 
engage  him  for  three  years.  For  the  first  year  he  will 
receive  as  salary,  five  hundred  dollars ;  for  the  second 
year,  seven  hundred  dollars  ;  and  for  the  third  year,  one 
thousand  dollars.  At  the  end  of  that  time,  if  he  has  the 
talent  you  credit  him  with,  ho  will  be  a  competent  prac- 


OR   CORA   GLENCOE.  293 

titioner,  able  to  take  good  care  of  himself.  It  may  then 
be  to  our  common  interest  to  give  him  a  junior  partner 
ship.  If  not,  we  will  dismiss  him  with  a  moderate  run 
of  business  of  his  own,  upon  which  he  can  build  his 
fortunes." 

"  The  salary,"  said  Cassel,  "  I  consider  rather  low,  for 
he  will  be  an  active  and  efficient  aid  to  you.  The  advan 
tages  you  offer  are  liberal  enough.  I  have  no  doubt  but 
that  he  will  accept  the  position,  and  in  view  of  it  I  have 
a  request  to  make  of  you.  In  addition  to  the  salary 
'which  he  will  get  from  you,  I  wish  to  give  him,  on  my 
own  account,  for  the  first  year,  say  four  hundred  dollars, 
and  if  nothing  prevents,  to  continue  this  addition  through 
the  three  years.  But  he  must  not  know  that  I  pay  it 
until  I  choose  to  tell  him,  and  you  must  not  exact  any 
thing  from  him  on  account  of  this  extra  salary." 

"I  understand  you,"  replied  Mr.  Gore.  "It  will  be 
very  easy  to  grant  your  request,  for  which  I  now  give 
you  our  promise.  His  salary  will  then  be,  for  the  three 
years,  nine,  eleven,  and  fourteen  hundred  dollars." 

"Yes." 

"Just  give  me  a  brief  article  of  writing,  stating  the 
case,  so  that,  should  you  hereafter  find  it  not  convenient 
to  continue  this  extra,  he  will  not  be  in  a  position  to  de 
mand  it  of  Hallum  &  Gore." 

Cassel  gave  the  cautious  lawyer  the  written  safeguard 
required,  and  Carroll  May  was  then  called  in.  Cassel 
withdrew,  leaving  Mr.  Gore  free  to  examine  the  young 
applicant.  Fifteen  minutes  passed,  when  Carroll  came 
out  smiling  and  successful. 

"  It  is  all  right,"  said  he  softly  to  Cassel.  "  You  are 
so  very  kind,  and  I  am  grateful.  They  give  me  more 
than  I  had  any  hope  for." 

"  See,  then,  that  you  do  your  duty,  both  to  them  and 
yourself,"  said  Cassel,  with  smiling  but  impressive  earn 
estness,  "for  I  am  pledged  for  you,  and  I  rarely  ever 
pledge  for  anybody." 

"  I  promise  to  redeem  your  pledge  to  the  uttermost," 
said  Carroll,  in  the  full  swing  of  that  enthusiasm  begotten 
of  opening  success. 

This  matter  arranged,  Cassel  was  impatient  to  adjust 
25* 


294  TKKEL, 

something  of  more  immediate  importance  to  himself. 
Wishing  to  see  Carroll  privately,  and  not  knowing  ex 
actly  how  he  might  well  get  rid  of  Johnny,  he,  at  a  ven 
ture,  took  the  two  young  men  to  a  museum. 

Among  the  multiplicity  of  sights,  Johnny  and  Carroll 
became  temporarily  separated,  and  Cassel  observing  it, 
took  occasion  to  join  Carroll  May.  He  might  have  waited 
until  some  other  time,  but  what  was  the  use  of  waiting  ? 
Without  prevarication  or  meandering  he  would  go  straight 
to  the  point,  as  was  his  habit. 

"  Carroll,"  asked  he,  "  do  you  know  that  Cora  Glencoe 
is  in  the  city?" 

"  Yes.     Have  you  seen  her  ?" 

"  Seen  her!     I'm  living  in  the  same  house  with  her." 

"  Indeed  !     Then  you  are  a  fortunate  young  man." 

"  Would  you  like  to  be  in  my  place  ?" 

"  Yes, — with  your  name,  and  face,  and  fortune."  . 

"  Carroll,  pardon  me  for  abruptness,  for  I  will  be  as 
frank  with  you  as  I  would  have  you  be  with  me, — but  do 
you  love  Cora  ?" 

"Yes — no — I  don't  know,"  answered  Carroll,  with  a 
sad  mystification.  He  continued  :  "  I  might  have  loved 
her,  but,  by  a  continual  stamping  out,  I  have  kept  down 
what  would  have  been  simply  wicked  folly.  You  know 
the  reason  why." 

"  But  since  her  new  history  ?" 

"  Since  that  1  have  not  seen  her." 

"  Does  she  love  you  ?"  asked  the  inquisitive  Cassel. 

"  Me !  I  do  not  know  that  she  ever  wasted  a  thought 
upon  me.  But  why  this  catechism  ?" 

"  For  several  reasons.  One  of  them  is,  I  am,  in  a 
measure,  her  guardian  here  in  the  city.  Another,  I  do 
not  doubt  that  you  were  the  most  girl-winning  young 
fellow  in  Creswood  while  you  and  she  were  there.  Don't 
flash  your  eyes  that  way,  for  I  am  not  making  fun  of  you, 
but  am  speaking  in  all  sincerity.  Another  reason  is, 
Cora  is  the  finest  young  girl  within  all  my  acquaintance, 
and  I  thought  that  possibly  you  and  she  had  formed  an 
attachment,  if  nothing  more  than  a  mute  one,  while  being 
reared  as  children  in  the  same  school  and  neighborhood." 

"  What  might  have  been,  may  differ  greatly  from  what 


OR    CORA    GLENCOE.  295 

is.  But  do  not  talk  to  me  about  Cora  Glencoe,  because  I 
am  strenuously  trying  to  forget  "her." 

"  Carroll,  the  subject  is  too  enchanting  to  be  dismissed 
so  summarily.  I  will  be  as  frank  with  you  as  I  have  asked 
you  to  be  with  me.  As  I  said  before,  I  am  Cora's  city 
guardian.  You  are  at  liberty  to  win  her  if  you  can,  pro 
vided  you  do  not  interfere  with  her  studies.  I  reserve  to 
myself  the  same  privilege." 

"You!"  exclaimed  Carroll,  while  he  surveyed  young 
Rapid's  almost  matchless  personnel.  "  In  that  case  I  could 
hardly  hope  for  success.  You  have  every  advantage  of 
me, — authority,  wealth,  leisure,  and  an  elegant  comeliness 
to  which  I  do  not  even  pretend." 

"  I  know  of  no  one  whom  I  would  fear  so  much  as  Car 
roll  May,"  answered  Cassel.  "  But  I  glory  in  competition 
where  I  know  that  it  is  honorable." 

"I  will  not  strive  with  you,"  protested  Carroll,  "for 
should  I  by  possibility  succeed,  there  is  a  gloom  which 
would  rest  upon  the  joint  lives  of  Cora  and  myself  which 
only  the  magic  of  an  everlasting  and  never-waning  honey 
moon  could  effectually  dispel, — and  the  spoken  and  written 
experience  of  the  world  teaches  me  that  these  matrimonial 
moons  are  wholly  given  over  to  waning.  When  I  first 
learned  of  Cora's  new  prospective  parentage,  I  thought  of 
her  in  connection  with  my  humble  self  as  released  from  a 
bloody  bondage, — that  I  was  free  to  seek  her.  I  was  partly 
the  cause  of  her  coming  to  this  city  ;  and  therein  I  had  a 
motive  or  purpose,  which,  however,  upon  mature  reflection, 
ceases  to  exist,  or  sleeps ;  and  I  have  no  present  disposi 
tion  to  wake  it  up.  I  yield  the  ground  entirely  to  you, 
and  wish  you  joy  of  its  possession.  Under  other  circum 
stances  I  might  wrestle  with  you." 

Cassel  was  both  pleased  and  disappointed, — pleased  that 
the  way  was  open  and  unobstructed,  and  disappointed 
that  he  should  have  no  competitor ;  not  that  he  especially 
thirsted  for  competition,  or  wished  to  triumph  over  any 
adversary,  but  he  experienced  a  f<  eling  of  dissatisfaction 
that  any  appreciative  one,  who  had  enjoyed  good  opportu 
nities  of  judging  of  Cora's  loveliness  and  sweet  ways,  and 
had  once  been  under  her  influence,  could  so  calmly,  and 
conclusively,  and  in  such  a  reasonable  manner,  make  up 


296  TEKEL, 

his  mind  to  forego  her  altogether.  Could  he,  Cassel  Rapid, 
make  up  his  mind  to  such  self-abnegation  ?  Could  he  rest 
contented  to  forego  the  girl  of  his  love  under  any  circum 
stances  short  of  impossibility  ?  He  thought  not.  Was 
it,  then,  a  lack  of  ardor  in  Carroll  May  ?  or  was  it  a  defi 
ciency  in  Cora,  which  caused  the  young  man  so  tamely  to 
submit  to  the  tenor  of  the  times  ?  Was  it  an  absence,  to 
all  but  himself,  of  that  thrilling  combination  of  trait 
and  person  which  makes  men  willing  to  go  to  the  very 
devil  if  their  way  only  leads  them  through  the  coveted 
portal  ?  A  man  who  is  not  disposed  to  be  jealous,  is  well 
pleased  to  see  a  world  of  lovers  worshiping  at  the  feet  of 
the  girl  whom  he  loves  and  whom  he  expects  to  make  his 
own.  It  is  not  at  all  pleasant  for  him  to  think  that,  except 
himself,  nobody  is  alive  to  her  charms.  Such  undisputed 
monopoly  would  rob  the  luster,  if  not  the  intrinsic  value, 
from  the  gem  which  he  calculates  to  set  in  his  breast  and 
wear  as  a  badge  of  wealth,  and  joy,  and  enviable  success. 

"  Carroll,"  asked  Cassel,  "  if  you  are  not  interested  in 
Cora,  why  did  you  propose  emptying  your  pockets  by  en 
countering  the  expenses  of  a  search  for  Maria  Guthrie  ?" 

"  How  do  you  know  of  that  ?" 

"  Through  O'Dare,  the  detective.  I  applied  to  him  for 
a  like  object,  and  he  informed  me  that  both  you  and  Mr. 
Neville  Huron  were  in  advance  of  me.  Now  I  do  not 
hesitate  to  admit  that  I  was  prompted  solely  by  my 
interest  in  Cora.  O'Dare  told  me  that  you  were  moved 
to  it  by  family  reasons.  Can  I,  without  impropriety,  in 
quire  what  those  family  reasons  are  ?" 

"  I  am  simply  making  an  effort  to  vindicate  my  father 
and  defend  his  memory."  And  Carroll  went  into  an  ex 
planation  of  the  cause  which  had  induced  him  to  engage 
in  the  search  for  Maria  Guthrie. 

"Your  explanation  is  adequate  and  creditable,"  said 
Cassel.  "  But  to  return  to  our  primary  subject, — I  cannot 
understand  how  any  one  with  the  ghost  of  a  chance  could 
or  would  yield  Cora  to  another  without  an  effort." 

"  My  chance,"  replied  Carroll,  with  an  expression  of 
countenance  half  pensive  and  half  bitter,  "is  accompanied 
by  the  ghost  of  my  father,  which  might  frown  upon  me 
should  I  venture  on  the  chance.  However,  my  mind,  in 


OR   CORA    OLE  NCOS.  297 

that  particular  regard,  may  be  warped  ;  and  others  may 
contemplate  my  position  from  a  different  stand-point  from 
that  which  to  me  it  has  heretofore  most  vividly  appeared. 
You  yourself  seem  to  do  so.  Cora,  for  all  that  I  know, 
may  do  the  same.  You  half  banter  me,  Cassel, — kindling 
both  my  hope  and  my  pride.  If,  therefore,  you  will  per 
mit  me  to  retract,  I  will  do  so,  and  the  future,  under  dif 
ferent  urgings,  shall  determine  the  fates  of  Cora  Glencoe, 
Cassel  Rapid,  and  Carroll  May.  I  shall  hold  myself  free 
to  outstrip  you  if  fortune  should  favor  me.  Heretofore, 
I  had  put  my  love  into  a  coffin  and  screwed  down  the  lid, 
but  the  clods  have  not  yet  fallen  on  it.  You  have  pro 
voked  it  back  to  life  and  resistance.  You  have  chal 
lenged  me,  old  fellow,"  continued  Carroll,  with  a  strange 
gleam  leaping  from  his  eyes  which  Cassel  did  not  alto 
gether  comprehend  or  like,  "  and  I  will  endeavor  to  make 
your  fight  an  exciting  one,  and  your  conquest  valuable 
on  account  of  its  cost.  But  I  warn  you,  that,  when  I 
launch,  I  will,  if  possible,  sail  over  Cassel  Rapid,  or  any 
other  rapid,  to  get  out  into  that  sparkling  champagne  sea 
of  joy  which  will  be  coexistent  with  the  possession  of 
this  matchless  little  girl." 

Cassel  was  again  both  pleasured  and  displeasured ;  he 
was  gratified  to  know  that  Cora  was  properly  estimated, 
but  there  was  an  expression  in  the  eyes  of  the  youth  whom 
he  had  roused  to  antagonism  which  was  not  welcome  to 
him.  However,  he  reached  out  his  hand  and  said, — 

"  Carroll,  I  give  you  my  hand  in  pledge  for  a  fair  fight, 
without  the  accompaniments  of  jealousy  and  bitterness. 
Although  your  sudden  resolution  alarms  me  a  little,  it  will 
give  zest  to  the  game,  and  whichever  wins  will  have  the 
satisfaction  of  knowing  that  the  prize  has  been  tested. 
Also,  it  is  very  possible  that  neither  of  us  may  succeed ; 
in  the  latter  event  we  can  at  least  sympathize  with  each 
other  while  we  suck  our  thumbs  in  defeat  and  despair." 

"  She  is  so  well  worth  a  battle,"  answered  Carroll, 
"that  it  would  be  a  pity  should  no  lance  be  shivered  or 
blade  unhilted  over  her  head.  In  one  respect  I  have  the 
advantage  of  you,  Cassel.  You  are  hopeful,  —  almost 
domineeringly  confident;  I  am  neither.  If  you  are  de 
feated,  you  will  feel  the  galling  edge  of  failure  cut  you 


298  TEKEL, 

through  and  through.  I  enter  with  but  little,  hope ;  if  I 
fail,  I  will  be  just  where  I  began — almost.  I  am  in  a 
position  to  be  cooler  than  you,  for  I  have  nothing  to  lose 
and  everything  to  win.  What  my  emotional  status  will 
be  after  the  first  encounter  I  cannot  anticipate ;  but  since 
you  have  spurred  me  to  strive  for  Cora,  I  will  assure  you 
that  rather  than  not  come  in  contact  with  her  at  all,  and 
hear  her  voice,  and  look  into  her  eyes,  and  feast  upon  her 
blushes,  I  am  in  a  mood  to  choose  the  exquisite  misery 
of  defeat,  knowing  as  I  do  know  that  Cora  will  temper 
my  defeat  with  a  world  of  compassion  and  solicitude,  in 
which  all  the  loveliness  of  her  nature  will  arm  itself  to 
soothe  me,  and  make  my  failure  there  sweeter  than  success 
in  any  other  quarter.  It  will  be  like  dying  upon  some 
unequaled  and  ambrosial  draught." 

"  Carroll,"  said  Cassel,  with  something  of  impatience, 
"you  know  that  you  will  not  court  any  such  distinction, 
or  extinction,  as  that;  or,  if  you  should,  that  you  are  one 
among  the  last  to  bear  it  contentedly  or  derive  pleasure 
from  it." 

"  Some  men  choose  to  die  for  their  country,  others  to 
die  for  mistaken  honor,  and  yet  others  for  such  myths  as 
Fame  and  Glory ;  but  I  would  sooner  sacrifice  myself  for 
the  girl  that  I  love,  than,  by  a  different  immolation,  to 
write  my  name  upon  the  very  keystone  of  Vanity's  proudest 
spanning  arches." 

"  I  fear  that  I  have  roused  a  Cid,  who  will  do  battle  in 
the  very  shroud  and  harness  of  the  tomb  ere  he  will  relent 
in  his  warfare,"  said  Cassel,  with  a  look  of  incredulity  and 
the  faintest  imaginable  feeling  and  show  of  disdain.  He 
was  of  the  opinion  that  Carroll  was  talking  foolishly  and 
extravagantly,  whether  sincerely  or  not.  In  conclusion, 
he  remarked,  "  Carroll,  I  intended  this  interview  to  be 
frank  and  simple.  You  have  brought  into  it  an  element 
which  I  do  not  like ;  and  we  had  as  well  rejoin  Johnny, 
who  appears  to  be  immersed  in  the  mystical  but  obsolete 
lore  of  those  Egyptian  mummies  over  there." 

The  interview  had  got  to  be  distasteful  to  Cassel,  who, 
from  beginning  to  end,  had  intended  and  endeavored  that 
it  should  be  an  open,  knightly,  and  even  boyishly  frank, 
free  conference ;  but  before  he  had  put  an  end  to  it,  he  saw 


OR    CORA    GLENCOE.  299 

in  Carroll's  countenance  and  manner  an  expression  and  air 
which  he  did  not  anticipate  or  like.  For  Carroll,  though  not 
habitually  on  the  qui  vive  for  affronts,  was  very  touchy, 
and  in  many  things  morbidly  sensitive  ;  and,  out  of  pure 
human  perversity,  altogether  misconceived  Cassel  Rapid's 
motives,  writing  them  down  in  fashion  as  follows  :  "  Now, 
at  this  day,  before  me,  Carroll  May,  a  child  of  Poverty,  a 
vassel  of  Misfortune,  and.  the  target  of  Circumstance, 
comes  Cassel  Rapid,  glorious  in  his  youth  and  beauty, 
and  free  by  reason  of  his  wealth,  and  deposes  thus: 
'Look  at  me,  Carroll  May.  I  am  your  benefactor;  I  will 
continue  to  befriend  you  if  you  will  consent  to  amuse  me 
and  enable  me  to  pass  my  time  agreeably,  and  mark  the 
dull  days  with  a  triumph  here  and  there,  which,  though  it 
trenches  upon  your  sensibilities,  will  gratify  my  vanity 
and  yield  me  an  occasional  crown  of  ascendency.  I  have 
already,  for  my  own  uses,  made  you  respectable  by  securing 
for  you  a  respectable  place.  I  have  under  my  charge  a 
lovely  country-girl,  whom  I  can  monopolize  at  will  by 
virtue  of  my  position  ;  but  to  do  so,  securely  and  entirely, 
will  be  far  too  tame  and  insipid.  Therefore,  come  you, 
my  convenient  friend  Carroll,  and  give  spice  to  my  pie 
and  pungency  to  my  champagne.  It  is  foregone  that  you 
shall  not  share  with  me  the  pie  or  tip  the  champagne ; 
but  you  may  have  the  wonderful,  and  for  you  the  suffi 
cient,  pleasure  of  seeing  me  eat  and  drink  when  the  ban 
quet  is  served.' " 

Carroll  had  no  conception  what  bitter  injustice  he  was 
doing  Cassel  Rapid  by  harboring  such  graceless  thoughts 
as  these.  Cassel's  motives  had  been  as  pure  as  the  limpid 
spring-water,  and  as  generous  and  free  as  the  sun's  goodly 
ray.  Carroll  May  was  probably  the  only  youth  upon  the 
face  of  the  earth  to  whom  Cassel  would  have  felt  disposed 
to  proffer  the  unreserved,  delicate,  and  confidential  good- 
fellowship  manifested  in  his  open-hearted  and  opportune 
dealing.  Instead  of  endeavoring  to  entrap  Carroll  for  the 
purpose  of  twitting  and  deriding  him,  or  crowing  over  him 
afterward,  he  was  just  away  from  doing  him  a  first-rate 
favor  and  secretly  enhancing  it  out  of  his  own  pocket. 
Had  he  been  conscious  of  what  was  rioting  through  Car 
roll's  mind,  he  would  utterly  have  scorned  him  as  an  un- 


300  TEKEL, 

gracious  hound,  unworthy  even  of  a  kick.  But  Carroll 
was  not  absolutely,  and  without  rebate,  to  blame:  for  in 
stances  of  motive,  pure,  perfect,  and  unleavened,  are  so 
very,  very  rare,  that  they  pass  us  unrecognized,  or  unper- 
ceived,  like  invisible  angels  silently  gliding  by.  It  was 
well  for  the  old  amity  existing  between  these  two  young 
men,  that  Carroll  May's  bitter  imaginings  were  as  unde 
tected  by  Cassel  as  his  generosity  and  fairness  were  unap 
preciated  by  Carroll.  It  is  almost  needless  to  state  that 
Carroll  May  would  have  writhed  under  insufferable  shame 
and  remorse,  had  he  been  advised  how  well  and  truly 
Cassel  had  acted  toward  him,  and  how  egregiously  and 
ignobly  he  had  suffered  himself  to  misconstrue.  From 
this  time  forward,  a  breath  of  chillness  seemed  to  hover 
between  them,  bearing  the  least  bit  of  frost. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

WHEN  Carroll  May  came  to  New  York,  he  was  by  no 
means  determined  to  seek  out  Cora  Glencoe,  even  for  the 
purpose  of  renewing  old  acquaintance.  On  the  contrary, 
he  had  almost  made  up  his  mind  never  again  to  look  upon 
her  face  if  he  could  avoid  it.  He  had  generally  considered 
her  as  much  beyond  his  endeavors  as  if  she  had  been  the 
bride  of  another.  But  now  that  by  others  it  did  not 
appear  to  be  taken  for  granted  that  his  father's  blood  would 
cry  out  against  him  from  the  ground  should  he  essay  to 
win  her,  he  found  no  difficulty  in  convincing  himself  that 
Cora's  hand  was  not  lineally  stained  by  that  father's  gore, 
and  thereby  forbidden  to  him.  In  view  of  her  mooted  parent 
age  he  could  strive,  then,  for  her  hand,  without  vexing  the 
ghost  of  his  slaughtered  father.  Carroll  was  a  spirited 
and  combative  youth,  and  with  his  ideas  of  Cassel  Rapid's 
motives,  together  with  the  influence  of  a  life-long  penchant 
for  Cora,  it  is  not  surprising  that  he  resolved  to  compete 
with  Cassel,  with  all  the  vim  which  awakens  at  the  touch 
of  love,  pride,  ambition,  rivalry,  and  active  sensibility. 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  301 

It  had  not  been  Cassel's  intention  to  provoke  a  sharp 
contest,  but  merely  honorable  and  knightly  emulation — 
but  now  that  he  dimly  recognized  a  spirit  of  bitterness  in 
the  contemplated  rivalry  of  Carroll  May,  he  girded  himself 
for  firm,  alert,  and  decisive  battle. 

Pretty  soon  a  third  champion  appeared  in  the  lists,  and 
the  contest  bid  fair  to  be  a  triangular  one,  with  the  prob 
ability  of  its  angles  increasing  in  number  as  the  strife 
progressed. 

This  third  champion  was  no  less  a  personage  than  Harry 
Gray, — the  Claude  Melnotte,  as  he  was  called,  of  New 
York  city.  It  happened  in  this  wise  that  he  became  an 
admirer  of  Cora.  Harry  Gray  had  been  pleased  with  the 
outward  appearance  of  Linda  Boyd,  on  a  former  occasion, 
when  she  was  taking  her  first  Park  drive  with  Cassel 
Rapid,  and  had  determined  to  make  some  investigations 
regarding  her.  But  he  had  postponed  doing  so  from  time 
to  time  until  now  that  Cora  was  established  in  the  Boyd 
mansion.  Cassel  had  promised  to  introduce  the  young 
gentleman  to  Linda  whenever  he  should  find  it  convenient 
to  call  at  the  mansion.  When,  at  length,  he  came,  Cas&cl 
and  Cora  were  in  the  first  parlor,  into  which  Harry  Gray 
was  ushered  by  the  bell-servant.  Cassel  presented  him 
to  Cora,  and  in  a  few  moments  slipped  out  to  notify  Linda 
and  tease  her  a  little — but  Linda  was  absent.  She  and 
Mrs.  Lake  were  making  some  calls  in  the  city.  Cassel 
left  young  Gray  with  Cora  for  the  space  of  ten  or  fifteen 
minutes.  When  he  returned,  Cora  withdrew.  She  would 
have  withdrawn  at  first,  but  Cassel  had  left  her  so  sit 
uated  that  she  could  not  well  have  escaped  without  an 
appearance  of  panic  or  rudeness. 

Young  Gray  was  greatly  attracted  by  Cora,  and  when 
she  went  out  he  turned  to  Cassel  and  asked, — 

"  See  here,  Rapid  ;  what  tempting  little  Greek  is  this 
whom  you  were  kind  enough  to  give  me  a  glimpse  of?" 

"  A  young  friend  of  mine,  from  Maryland  ;  Miss  Huron." 

"  What !  Is  she  the  one  about  whom  the  Huron  brothers 
are  waging  such  a  war  ?" 

"Yes." 

"  What  is  she  doing  here  ?" 

"Educating  herself." 

26 


302  TEKEL, 

"  In  whose  care  is  she  ?" 

"Mine." 

"  Yours  !"  exclaimed  young  Gray,  with  surprise.  "  You 
are  certainly  offering  me  a  joke." 

"  Not  a  bit." 

"  Who  ever  heard  of  such  a  thing !     Ha !  ha !  h-a  1" 

"Why  not?" 

"  Are  her  friends  all  crazy  ?" 

"No  more  than  are  you." 

"The  idea!  Wh-e-w!  Cassel  Rapid  to  have  charge 
of  two  dainty  little  women,  in  a  large  city,  and  a  thousand 
miles  from  their  mammas  !" 

"  What's  the  difficulty  ?" 

"  Why,  Rapid, — don't  you  know  your  reputation  among 
the  petticoats?" 

"  No, — please  enlighten  me." 

"  It  is  that  you  are  a  regular  bohemian, — a  rake, — a 
blase  sort  of  fellow  with  no  appetite  for  anything  except 
the  fresh  and  untried." 

"  The  character-makers  are  disposed  to  flatter  me,"  ob 
served  Cassel,  with  an  indolent,  careless  smile.  "  I  might 
favor  you  with  some  current  opinions  in  regard  to  your 
self,  if  I  thought  it  would  have  the  smallest  influence,  in 
reforming  you.  You  are  alternately  wheedling  at  least  a 
half  dozen  of  young  ladies  to  my  certain  knowledge, 
and " 

"  Halt,  Rapid.  Do  not  take  this  occasion  to  sum  up 
my  sins  against  me ;  but  tell  me,  is  Miss  Huron  fancy 
free  ?" 

'  I  presume  so.     Why  ?" 

'  Because  I  have  already  determined  to  seek  an  interest." 

'  You  had  better  not." 

'  How  so?" 

(  You'll  find  it  hard." 

'  The  way  I  like  it." 

'  Very  well, — I  warn  you." 

'Oho  1     You  warn  me,  do  you  ?" 

'  Yes, — Cassel  Rapid  warns  you  off." 

'I  understand." 

'  No, — you  don't  understand." 

'  Is  it  not  that  you  are  a  selfish  fellow  ?" 


OR   CORA    OLENCOE.  303 

"No." 

"  Prove  it,"  demanded  Gray,  laughing. 

"  Nothing  easier,"  replied  Cassel.  "  One  word  from  me 
would  close  these  doors  hermetically  against  you,  and  you 
might  try  from  now  till  doomsday  and  yet  never  succeed 
in  seeing  either  Mrs.  Boyd  or  Miss  Huron." 

"What  a  Sultan  he  is!" 

"  To  complete  the  proof,  you  have  my  permission,"  con 
tinued  Cassel,  with  provoking  condescension,  "  to  come 
whenever  you  like." 

"  What  a  merciful  prince  !" 

"  But  bear  in  mind  that  Miss  Huron  is  but  a  school-girl, 
and  that  you  are  not  to  interfere  with  the  prosecution  of 
her  studies.  She  cannot  probably  see  you  every  time  it 
may  suit  your  wayward  fancy  to  drop  in." 

"  How  often  may  I  call,  you  despot  ?" 

"  Once  a  week,  if  it  is  agreeable  to  her." 

"  Who  is  to  judge  of  the  agreeability  of  my  visits, — you 
or  she  ?"  asked  Gray,  with  a  droll  and  significant  look  of 
inquiry. 

"  I  leave  it  between  you.  You  will  not  be  apt  to  mis 
take  any  manifestation  on  her  part." 

"And  Mrs.  Boyd, — are  you  her  Cerberus  also?" 

"  She  is  her  own  mistress,  and  you  will  excuse  me  from 
striking  a  bargain  which  might  not  meet  her  approval. 
See  her  yourself." 

"  What  is  Miss  Huron's  name?" 

"  Cora  Glencoe." 

"  God !  but  I  love  her  already.  Rapid,  are  you  going 
in  there  ?" 

"  It's  none  of  your  business,  Mr.  Inquisitive.  But  you 
need  not  fear  a  dull  time, — you  will  have  plenty  of  opposi 
tion." 

"  If  I  had  you  out  of  the  way,  I  would  like  the  pros 
pect  better;  for  the  battle  is  almost  entirely  within  your 
discretion.  If  you  should  enviously  observe  me  getting 
along  nicely,  you'll  take  it  into  your  head  to  lock  me  out. 
Nevertheless,  I'll  try  and  get  acquainted  with  her,  and 
take  the  chance  of  your  being  struck  by  lightning." 

Meantime,  Linda  returned,  and  Gray  had  the  pleasure 
of  seeing  her.  Linda  rarely  ever  spent  a  more  agreeable 


304  TEKEL, 

little  while  in  her  life  than  the  half  hour  which  Harry 
Gray  devoted  to  her.  When  the  young  gentleman  left  the 
house  with  permission  to  come  again  and  at  will,  he  said 
to  himself, — 

"  Cassel  Rapid  is  in  clover  up  to  his  chin.  I  would 
give  a  fine  pair  of  trotters  to  beat  him.  There's  Mrs.  Boyd, 
a  sugar  plum, — a  ripe,  blushing  peach, — a  regular  little 
honey-bee.  How  I  would  like  to  kiss  her,  and  have  it 
accompanied  by  the  faintest  possible  response  from  her 
own  lips.  But  Miss  Huron  is  a  sweet,  young  dovey, — a 
gazelle, — with  an  eagle,  or  a  young  lion,  to  watch  over 
her,  and  devour  her  up,  perhaps.  Oh,  you  rascal  of  a 
Rapid  !  Why  are  you  such  an  unmitigated,  fortunate  fel 
low,  as  to  come  ever  and  anon  between  me  and  my  fancy  ?" 

A  few  evenings  later,  Carroll  May  and  Johnny  Gale 
called  to  see  Cora.  She  received  them  as  old  friends,  and 
entertained  them  balmily  and  with  pleasure.  They  in 
quired  for  Mrs.  Boyd,  the  young  mistress  of  the  mansion, 
in  order  to  pay  their  respects  to  her.  Linda  soon  came  in, 
"  beautiful  as  a  butterfly,"  and  ready  to  welcome  the  young 
gentlemen  as  Cora's  friends.  Carroll  May  paired  off  with 
Cora,  and  Johnny  with  Linda,  and,  apparently,  a  very 
pleasant  evening  ensued. 

When  the  young  gentlemen  bowed  themselves  out, 
Linda  said  to  Cora, — 

"  Your  friend  Mr.  Gale  is  such  a  fine,  handsome,  hearty 
fellow, —  so  good  humored  and  full  of  fun." 

"  I  hardly  knew  him,"  replied  Cora.  "  He  has  improved 
so  very  much  since  I  last  saw  him  down  at  Creswood. 
But  what  do  you  think  of  Mr.  May  ?" 

"  He  did  not  give  me  an  opportunity  of  forming  an 
opinion,  being  so  entirely  devoted  to  you." 

Cora  blushed,  and  Linda  laughed  at  her,  bantered  her, 
and  kissed  her  an  affectionate  good-night. 

But  we  must  follow  the  two  young  men. 

"  Carroll,"  said  Johnny,  as  soon  as  they  had  cleared  the 
front  steps  of  the  mansion,  "  Mrs.  Boyd  fills  my  eye  ex 
actly." 

"  She  will  fill  your  pocket  if  you  can  persuade  her  to 
become  Mrs.  Gale,"  said  Carroll,  with  a  sort  of  lack-inter 
est  reply. 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  305 

"  What  do  you  think  of  her,  Carroll  ?"  asked  Johnny, 
who  evidently  felt  more  concern  in  the  subject  than  did  his 
companion. 

"  Well,"  answered  Carroll,  rather  abstractedly,  "  I  saw 
at  a  glance  that  she  is  very  pretty,  and  upon  that  I  pre 
sume  she  is  very  fascinating, — is  she  not  ?" 

"  Yes, — she's  as  sweet  as  a  cherry-pie,  and  as  new  as 
the  first  rose  or  the  first  strawberry  in  the  Spring.  She 
stirred  up  lots  of  mixed  poetry  in  me,  but  it's  been  so  long 
since  I  have  anchored  th*at  close  to  a  hoop-skirt  that  I 
hardly  knew  what  to  say  or  how  to  feel.  I  succeeded, 
however,  in  feeling  first-rate  myself,  and  she  seemed  to  be 
mathematically  pleased  with  my  dialectics,  notwithstand 
ing  she  would  laugh  at  me  and  call  me  droll.  I  am  going 
to  see  her  again,  by  Juggernaut.  Carroll,  it's  regular  hill 
top.  But  how  did  you  and  Cora  make  it  ?" 

"  Oh, — very  well.  She  was  particularly  kind,  and  coy, 
and  tender,  as  an  old  friend." 

"  Carroll,"  asked  Johnny,  while  a  street  lamp  lighted 
up  the  mischief  in  his  cheerful,  almost  heedless,  face, 
"you  are  rather  staggering  that  way,  are  you  not,  old 
fellow?" 

'  Can't  tell  yet,"  answered  Carroll. 

'  Mrs.  Boyd  is  so  dainty,  isn't  she  ?" 

'As  dainty  as  a  young  princess,  I  suppose." 

'And  she  is  friendly,  and  comes  so  near  to  a  fellow." 

'  Yes." 

'Then  she  is  a  virgin,  although  a  widow.  Did  you 
know  that?" 

"  I  reckon,"  replied  Carroll,  far  away  with  his  own 
thoughts. 

"  What's  the  matter,  Carroll?"  demanded  Johnny.  "Are 
you  asleep  ?  Wake  up,  and  let's  have  a  little  hot  supper 
at  the  Dolphin, — I'll  stand  treat  ?" 

"  I'm  not  hungry,  Johnny." 

"  Then  go  home,  you  squeamish  fellow,  and  I'll  go  eat 
by  myself.  You  must  have  met  with  a  cross  to-night." 

Carroll  and  Johnny  occupied,  jointly,  a  furnished  room, 
and  took  their  meals  at  a  restaurant.  Carroll  went  alone, 
to  his  lodging,  leaving  Johnny  to  satisfy  his  appetite. 

26* 


306  TEKEL, 

Thoughts  of  women  or  girls  had  never  yet  dried  up 
Johnny's  gastric  juice,  or  interfered  with  his  enjoyment  of 
a  good  meal. 

Carroll  May  was  now  painfully  in  love  with  Cora,  and 
his  interview,  just  ended,  left  him  apprehensive  that  he  had 
suffered  himself  to  take,  and  insist  upon,  a  very  imprudent 
and  damaging  course.  He  had  exerted  himself  to  probe 
into  her  heart,  without  alarming  her,  but  after  an  assidu 
ous  hour  spent  in  that  behalf,  he  found  himself  rather 
worse  than  better  off.  He  had  hot  conceived  that  she  was 
so  far  his  superior  in  emotional  and  single-handed  finesse. 
She  baffled  him  at  every  point.  Not  that  she  strove  with 
him,  but  because  she  would  not  strive  with  him.  In  the 
conduct  of  a  successful  quarrel,  two  persons  must  lend  a 
hand,  or  a  tongue  ;  for  if  one  declines  to  engage,  the  other 
will  find  it  a  tedious  and  very  unsatisfactory  job  to  keep 
the  quarrel  alive.  Cora  would  not  take  part  in  a  lover's 
tourney  between  herself  and  Carroll.  A  soft  answer 
turneth  away  wrath  ;  it  is  a  shield  from  which  wrath 
glances  off;  an  oil  which  negatives  poison ;  a  water  which 
stays  and  quenches  fire ;  a  smiling  antagonist ;  a  peace 
making  alien,  which  comes  in  between  wrath  and  wrath 
and  disarms  aggression.  It  was  thus  that  Cora  disarmed 
Carroll ;  for  when  he  slyly  trenched  upon  her  maiden 
skirts,  and  delicately  challenged  an  interchange  of  confi 
dence  and  of  feeling,  she  responded  in  words  and  manner 
as  foreign  to  the  discussion  which  he  was  endeavoring  to 
initiate,  as  a  kind  and  gentle  word  would  be  foreign  to  a 
quarrel.  She  balked  him  with  such  easy  and  apparently 
aimless  tact,  that  he  was  at  a  loss  to  discover  whether  she 
was  altogether  blind  to  his  advances,  or  a  most  cunning 
young  diplomatist.  Just  so  had  Cora's  brother  Graham 
been  handled  and  beaten  by  her,  when,  as  her  cousin,  he 
was  making  or  trying  to  make  love  to  her  down  at  Cres- 
wood.  And  as  Graham  had  been  bewitched  by  her,  so 
now  was  Carroll  May  bewitched  and  bewildered.  When 
he  conversed  upon  familiar  and  general  topics,  Cora  not 
only  went  with  him  freely  but  often  took  the  lead.  But 
when  he  would  shift  into  the  untrodden  way  in  which  he 
would  fain  go,  Cora  would  at  once  become  an  impracti 
cable  dunce  or  a  deft  little  refugee,  and  he  could  advance 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  307 

neither  her  nor  himself  the  space  of  an  inch.  The  two  par 
ticular  subjects  on  which  Carroll  tried  to  commit  and  con 
vict  her,  were — the  state  of  her  heart  toward  the  male 
world  en  masse  and  toward  Cassel  Rapid  individually, — 
and  whether  her  changed  status  and  prospective  condition 
in  the  world,  did,  in  her  estimation,  set  Cora  Glencoe  and 
Carroll  May  free  to  love  one  another,  should  they  feel  so 
disposed.  But  Cora  would  not  exchange  with  him  those 
little  heart-coins  which  pass  so  currently  between  incipient 
lovers,  for  he  had  started  radically  wrong  with  her, — alarm 
ing  her  at  the  very  outset,  and  causing  her  to  lock  up  the 
treasures  of  her  bosom,  and  hold  fast  to  the  key.  He  was 
not  unaware  of  his  failure,  or  of  the  consequences  it  might 
entail,  and  he  already  felt  that  the  coolness  and  non 
chalance  of  which  he  had  boasted  to  Cassel  Rapid,  had 
entirely  deserted  him. 

"  I  have  made  a  fool  of  myself,"  said  he,  mentally  con 
demning  his  management,  "  and,  to  make  it  yet  worse,  she 
knows  it.  Why  was  I  so  inordinately  covetous  and  impa 
tient?  Why  couldn't  I  let  'Cassel  Rapid'  and  'Carroll 
May'  escape  from  the  conversation,  and  permit  her  to  talk 
upon  subjects  which  did  not  drag  so  heavily  ?  No  1  like  a 
dolt  I  must  go  and  make  war  upon  her  instantly,  and  now 
I  have  got  myself  hobbled  and  hindered  and  beaten.  But 
when  I  see  her  again  I  shall  rectify  all  this,  and  then  take 
a  diiferent  course." 

Thereupon  Carroll  made  very  many  sensible  resolutions. 
But  the  question  is,  Will  he,  or  will  he  not,  act  upon  them  ? 
Will  he  have  the  patience  ?  As  a  young  lawyer,  Carroll 
was  patient  enough,  and  professionally  shrewd  withal — 
but  Blackstone  on  legal  essence,  and  Cupid  on  a  rampage, 
are  two  very  different  masters. 

One  evening  when  the  Boyd  colony  was  collected  in  the 
parlors  of  the  mansion,  and  a  general  and  spirited  inter~ 
mingling  was  in  progress,  Harry  Gray,  in  his  habitual  fine 
humor,  made  his  appearance,  and,  after  running  the 
sprightly  gantlet  of  the  colony,  and  devoting  a  few  par 
ticular  moments  to  Linda,  captured  Cora,  and  led  her  away 
to  the  piano. 

"  Now,  Miss  Cora,  the  favor  which  you  have  promised 
me  is  no  longer  unavoidably  delayed." 


308  TEKEL, 

Cora  sang  for  him.  In  memory  of  Creswood  and  of 
Larboard  Strand,  and  her  own  feelings  being  in  harmony 
with  the  thrilling  sentiment  of  the  song,  she  chose 
"  Shells  of  Ocean." 

"  And  thus  it  is — in  every  stage, 

By  toys  our  fancy  is  beguiled ; 
We  gather  shells  from  youth  to  age, 
And  then  we  leave  them — like  a  child." 

"  I  always  liked  that  simple,  pensive  song,"  said  Gray, 
"  and  I  have  never  heard  it  rendered  more  sweetly  or 
touchingly."  Cora  blushed  with  pleasure,  and  Harry  con 
tinued,  "  But  it  makes  me  feel  too  sad,  and  I  do  not  wish 
to  feel  sad  to-night,  for  I  came  here  to  be  joyful.  Please, 
then,  play  me  a  sweet  confusion  of  operatic  music,  to  drive 
out  the  melancholy  effect  of  this  song  of  the  Sea  Shell." 
And  Harry  Gray,  venturing,  stooped  over  and  whispered 
something  into  Cora's  ear.  She  answered  him  nothing, 
but,  arranging  her  music,  wheeled  about  on  the  piano- 
stool  and  called, — 

"  Mr.  Rapid  ?" 

Cassel  came  over  and  awaited  whatever  request  Cora 
should  make  of  him. 

"  I  wish,"  said  she,  "  you  would  please  turn  the  pages 
for  me.  Mr.  Gray  has  asked  for  opera  music,  and  as  he  is 
known  to  be  a  competent  critic,  I  desire  to  secure  every 
advantage  for  my  first  effort  within  range  of  his  ear." 

"  Why  didn't  you  permit  me  to  turn  the  pages  for  you  ?" 
asked  Harry  Gray,  who  was  discreet  enough  to  recognize 
the  effect  of  his  late  fond  whispering. 

"  Because  I  prefer  to  leave  you  free  to  close  your  auricu- 
lars  when  you  hear  a  grating  discord." 

"  Very  well,"  responded  Harry,  humorously  putting  up 
his  hands  to  be  ready  for  stopping  his  ears, — "  I'm  in  posi 
tion." 

The  piece  was  slow  and  rich,  but  difficult  of  thorough 
development,  and  Gray,  with  a  good  deal  of  interest, 
watched  Cora's  fingers,  as,  with  tremulous  firmness,  they 
pressed  the  keys,  and  wooed  from  the  willing  instrument 
its  sweetest  and  most  thrilling  chords. 

"  That  is  perfectly  delightful,"  said  Gray,  "  and  has  re- 


OR   CORA    QLENCOE.  309 

called  my  more  sprightly  humor,  so  that  I  can  enjoy 
another  sentimental  song  if  you  will  consent  to  alternate 
the  pleasure  which  you  are  dispensing." 

"  Before  I  proceed  further,"  answered  Cora,  "  I  wish  to 
get  something  off  my  mind." 

"  Cast  your  burdens  upon  me,"  gayly  volunteered  Harry 
Gray. 

"  With  all  my  heart,"  said  Cora,  who,  with  a  business 
like  air,  reached  for  a  book  which  lay  upon  one  end  of  the 
piano.  "  I  brought  this  book  here  for  the  purpose  of  ask 
ing  an  explanation  from  Mr.  Rapid,  but  you,  probably, 
will  give  me  the  explanation  just  as  well."  Cora  turned 
to  a  particular  page,  and  handed  Gray  the  book.  "  You 
will  find  on  page  71,  near  the  top,  a  Greek  quotation.  It 
is  the  key  to  the  entire  of  pages  71  and  72.  I  am  not 
able  to  translate  the  quotation,  and  cannot  understand 
what  immediately  follows,  until  I  am  possessed  of  the 
significance  of  those  Greek  words.  I  beg  pardon  for  in 
troducing  the  subject  at  such  a  time  as  this,  but  it  often 
worries  me  no  little  to  have  a  difficulty  hanging  over." 

Gray,  who  had  by  this  time  discovered  that  he  had 
overcropped  himself,  very  reluctantly  took  hold  of  the 
book,  and  then  glancing  suspiciously  at  Cassel  Rapid, 
inquired, — 

"  Rapid,  do  you  read  Greek  ?" 

"No,"  answered  Cassel,  without  the  slightest  hesita 
tion,  but  scarcely  able  to  suppress  a  smile.  As  Gray's 
countenance  cleared  up  of  its  shadow  of  perplexity,  Cora 
turned  with  some  surprise  to  Cassel,  and  was  about  to 
spring  his  trap-trigger.  Gray  was  looking  Cassel  straight 
in  the  face,  and  the  latter  had  no  opportunity  of  making 
Cora  a  signal.  Anxious  not  to  have  his  trap  sprung, 
Cassel  dared  to  put  out  his  foot  and  press  the  toe  of 
Cora's  slipper.  She  retreated  in  haste  and  panic,  and  ex 
pectantly  waited  for  Gray  to  "  unmuzzle  his  wisdom." 
Cocking  his  eye  and  looking  into  the  book  like  a  "mag 
pie  into  a  marrow-bone,"  Harry  Gray  translated  the 
Greek,  and  Cassel  Rapid,  who  had  got  a  glimpse  of  it, 
immediately  roared  with  laughter.  Gray  looked  at  Cassel 
as  though  it  would  be  the  acme  of  pleasure  to  seize  him 
and  choke  him  to  death,  and  Cassel  continaed  to  laugh  in 


310  TEKEL, 

that  hearty,  joyous,  honest  fashion  which  made  his  merri 
ment  either  so  very  pleasant  or  so  very  provoking. 

"What  amuses  you  so,  Mr.  Rapid?"  playfully  asked 
Cora,  who  felt  very  much  disposed  to  laugh  herself. 

"  Let  me  see  the  book,"  said  Cassel,  still  boiling  over 
with  appreciation  of  Gray's  Greek  lore. 

Harry  resigned  the  book  much  more  reluctantly  than 
he  had  at  first  accepted  it,  and  when  Cora  was  turned 
away  and  he  could  catch  Cassel 's  eye,  he  went  through 
with  a  most  intense  and  vivid  pantomime,  to  the  exceeding 
amusement  and  inward  delight  of  young  Rapid. 

"  Mr.  Gray,"  said  Cora,  finally  turning  to  him,  "  I  do 
not  perceive  what  connection  the  quotation  can  possibly 
have  with  the  text.  Did  you  observe  what  immediately 
follows  it  ?" 

"  I  merely  glanced  at  the  quotation,"  answered  Gray, 
feeling  very  miserable,  and  mentally  cursing  himself. 
"Why  the  devil  didn't  I  read  the  connection  ?"  asked  he 
of  himself.  "  I  might  have  gathered  an  inkling  of  the 
significance  of  that  confounded  quotation.  She  will  not 
only  write  me  down  an  Ass,  but  a  deceitful  Ass."  He 
then  looked  imploringly  over  to  Cassel  Rapid,  who  still 
continued,  at  intervals,  to  laugh  with  aggravating  gusto. 
Cassel,  with  a  warning  shake  of  his  head  at  Cora,  laid 
the  book  aside.  Harry  Gray,  beginning  to  feel  a  little 
safer,  picked  it  up  and  said, — 

"  I  observe,  Miss  Cora,  that  this  is  a  work  on  Antiqui 
ties.  Under  whose  gray-haired  supervision  are  you  pro 
secuting  this  particular  study  ?" 

"Mr.  Rapid  has  lent  me  his  collection  of  works  on 
Antiquity,  and  volunteers  to  enlighten  me  when  I  am 
mystified,  as  I  was — and  am  yet,  by  this  Greek  quota 
tion." 

"  Mr.  Rapid  /"  exclaimed  Gray  with  assumed  sarcastic, 
and  genuine  retaliatory  amazement.  "  Mr.  Rapid  an  an 
tiquarian, — a  Methuselah, — ha!  ha!  h-a!  a  compeer  of 
Pickwick, — an  admirer  of  hieroglyphics,  Egyptian  obe 
lisks,  and  American  mile-stones.  Be  cautioned  by  me, 
Miss  Cora,  and  confine  him  to  the  Ancients.  Don't  let 
him  descend  to  the  Moderns  with  you,  especially  to  the 
current  generation." 


OR   CORA   GLENCOE.  3U 

"  Why  ?"  asked  Cora,  preparing  to  act  the  impracticable 
dunce,  as  she  had  done  with  Carroll  May. 

"  Because  he  is  a  gay  bohernian." 

"  I  thought  he  was  a  Marylander,"  answered  Cora,  with 
the  most  innocent  look  in  the  world.  "  However,  I  think 
the  study  of  the  current  year  as  interesting  as  that  of  any 
preceding  one,  be  it  ever  so  remote.  Look  at  the  state  of 
Europe,  for  instance, — hanging,  as  is  supposed,  on  a  verge. 
Even  Bohemia  may  be  turned  topsy-turvy.  Then,  in 
America,  the  weather-vane  points  to  the  stormy  quarter." 

"She  eludes  me,"  said  Gray  to  himself.  Then  aloud, 
"  If  you  really  wish  an  interesting  modern  story  or  subject, 
just  investigate  my  young  friend  Rapid  there.  I  think 
you  will  find  in  him  a  medley  of  misdemeanors." 

"  So  trite  a  medley  can  readily  be  found  elsewhere  with 
out  the  trouble  of  investigation,"  answered  Cora. 

"  But  try  and  ascertain,  and  tell  me,"  said  Gray,  who 
did  not  regard  Cora's  last  remark  as  particularly  flattering 
to  himself,  for  he  might  well  answer  for  the  "  elsewhere," 
— "  why  it  is  that  he  is  so  winning  with  the  girls." 

"  Probably  because  he  behaves  himself." 

"  By  no  means.    For  he  exactly  does  not  behave  himself." 

"  His  misdemeanors  must  then  be  very  fascinating  ones." 

"  They  must  be  indeed,"  answered  Gray,  '•  for  at  this 
moment  he  has  a  dozen  or  more  unhappy  girls  in  love  with 
him." 

"  Indeed !     How  many  can  you  boast  ?" 

"Not  one." 

"Oh,  how  you  would  like  to  change  places  with  him  !" 
cried  Cora,  with  sprightly,  even  teasing  contravention, 
while  Gray  muttered  to  himself,  "  Caught  again,  by  Jove  !" 

"But  don't  you  think  it  very  wrong,"  asked  Gray,  "for 
a  young  gentleman  to  have  so  many  sweethearts?" 

"  Yery  wrong  indeed, — in  the  sweethearts,"  answered 
Cora. 

"And  in  him  also;  for  he  can  only  love  but  one." 

"  Only  one  at  a  time,  you  mean." 

"And  he  can  marry  but  one." 

"And  thereby  generously  suffer  the  others  to  escape  the 
misery  of  that  one,"  suggested  Cora,  with  a  bright,  sly 
glance  at  Cassel,  who  answered  her  with  a  smile.  Cassel 


312  TEKEL, 

was  wondering  what  Gray  was  going  to  make  out  of  this 
somewhat  episodic  conversation.  He  was  already  half 
convinced  that  it  would  end  in  nothing,  and  Gray  was 
himself  apprehensive  that  he  would,  in  the  end,  reach  nihil. 

"But  what  do  you  think  of  a  youth,"  asked  he,  "  who 
always  has  a  dozen  or  more  strings  to  his  bow  ?" 

"  I  think  that  he  is  quite  safe,"  answered  Cora,  merrily, 
— "pretty  well  supplied  with  bow-thongs." 

"  Yes,  but  to  go  and  get  a  dozen  girls  in  love  with  him 
when  he  knows  that  he  can't  parcel  himself  out  to  them  !" 

"  He  must  be  a  very  captivating  person  to  do  that,  or 
the  girls  must  be  very  silly." 

"But  please  be  serious  now," urged  Gray,  "and  tell  me 
what  you  think — of — such — a — naughty — fellow  ?" 

•'To  be  serious,  then,"  replied  Cora,  with  the  slightest 
perceptible  elevation  of  her  brow,  "  I  think  absolutely 
nothing  about  it." 

Cassel  broke  out  with  a  triumphant  carol,  which  irritated 
Gray,  and  caused  him  to  color  with  vexation,  while  Cora 
sat  demurely  looking  on.  Gray  had  essayed  to  tease  Cas 
sel,  and  possibly  ascertain  how  Cora  was  affected  toward 
her  gallant  young  guardian.  But  he  failed  to  excite  any 
show  of  jealousy  or  concern  on  her  part,  and  ended  in 
teasing  himself.  He  got  himself  over  on  legitimate  ground 
as  soon  as  possible,  and  by  a  run  of  sensible,  pleasing  talk, 
endeavored  to  make  Cora  forget  the  poverty  and  weakness 
of  his  ill-contrived  foray  upon  herself  and  Cassel. 

Cora  had  been  very  well  pleased  with  Harry  Gray.  He 
was  excellent  company,  his  manners  were  spontaneously 
good,  he  had  a  look  of  native,  unfailing  amity  and  gener 
osity  about  him,  and  very  rarely,  if  ever,  appeared  self- 
absorbed.  He  was  frequently  careless,  and  laid  himself 
open  to  raillery  and  attack,  but  by  his  very  looseness  he 
frequently  delighted  his  acquaintances  by  giving  them 
gratifying  opportunities  of  pouncing  upon  him.  His  po 
sition  was  often  like  that  of  a  fun-loving  school-boy,  set 
upon  by  a  bevy  of  snowballing  maidens,  each  of  whom 
being  half  in  love  with  the  victim,  takes  good  care  not  to 
pelt  him  too  hard.  The  most  vicious  of  Harry  Gray's 
favorite  female  acquaintances  would  not  have  punished 
him  more  severely  than  to  slip  a  little  snow  down  his  back, 


OR   CORA    GLEN  GO  E.  313 

or  to  start  a  spear  of  tickle-grass  up  his  breeches  leg.  There 
were  at  least  a  half  dozen  girls  whom  he  kissed  as  reg 
ularly  as  he  found  a  chance,  and  each  girl  knew  that  the 
others  permitted  it.  There  was  nothing  in  life,  so  unsub 
stantial,  which  Harry  liked  better  than  to  kiss  a  pretty, 
half-unwilling,  girl.  As  a  kind  of  feeler,  he  one  day  ob 
served  to  Cassel  Rapid  "that  he  would  give  a  bushel  of 
shelled  oats  to  kiss  Linda  Boyd," — he  did  not  dare  to  say 
"  CoraGrlencoe."  Cassel  very  significantly  replied,  "Uncle 
Jesse  stands  no  nonsense."  Harry  was  shrewd  enough  to 
interpret  "  Uncle  Jesse"  as  meaning  "brother  Cassel."  So 
he  did  not  get  to  kiss  Linda, — poor  Harry ! 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

JOHNNY  GALE  had  taken  a  Juggernaut  oath  that  he 
would  repeat  his  visit  to  the  Boyd  mansion,  and  as  he 
found  the  obligation  more  binding  than  burdensome,  he 
did  not  outrage  the  sanctity  of  the  Hindoo  deity  by  for 
feiting  his  oath.  He  went  frequently  to  see  Linda,  and  at 
length  found  himself  just  six  feet — all  that  he  measured 
— in  love  with  her. 

One  day,  after  Johnny  had  done  himself  the  pleasure 
of  seeing  Linda,  he  called  upon  Cassel  Rapid,  greeting 
him  with  hearty  honesty,  while  his  almost  boyish  face  was 
covered  with  good  humor  mixed  with  apprehension. 

"  Come  in,  Hercules,"  responded  Cassel,  "  and  take  a 
seat." 

"  Cassel,"  asked  Johnny,  half  bashfully,  "  when  a  man 
wishes  to  reach  a  certain  point,  had  he  not  better  go 
straight  to  it,  instead  of  moving  upon  it  by  detours  ?" 

"  That  depends  upon  the  topography  of  the  ground  or 
country  which  lies  between  you  and  your  objective  point," 
replied  Cassel,  thinking  that  Johnny's  question  was  related 
to  his  pursuit  of  civil  engineering. 

"  Say  that  a  fellow  is  on  a  dead  level,"  said  Johnny, 
reducing  his  question  to  the  simplest  form. 

2? 


314  TEKEL, 

"  Then  I  would  recommend  him  to  take  a  bee-line  and 
run  for  it,"  answered  Cassel,  who  began  to  doubt  that 
Johnny's  inquiry  was  in  pursuance  of  civil  science ;  for 
Johnny's  face  and  nerves  were  beginning  to  tell  on  him. 

"  Well,  Cassel,  on  your  recommendation  I  am  going 
straight  to  the  center  at  a  single  clip.  I'm  in  love  with 
Linda  Boyd." 

Cassel  turned  his  eyes  upon  Johnny,  who  was  looking 
comically  lugubrious.  Cassel  regarded  him  for  a  moment, 
and  then  gave  out  a  long  whistle.  Johnny  wilted,  and,  in 
his  confusion,  retired  almost  into  his  boots.  Cassel  laughed 
at  him,  and  Johnny,  as  if  it  was  the  funniest  thing  in  the 
world, — this  thing  of  loving  Linda  Boyd, — accompanied 
Cassel  with  his  most  ticklish  giggle,  while  he  blushed  all 
over,  and  vented  about  a  pint  of  perspiration. 

"  Have  you  cut  your  wisdom  teeth  ?"  asked  Cassel. 

Johnny  only  looked  at  him. 

"When  did  you  commence  this  loving  business  ?" 

"  I  hardly  know,"  replied  Johnny ;  "  but  I  know  that 
it's  under  full  headway  now." 

"  How  do  you  know  it  ?"  asked  •  Cassel,  with  considera 
ble  inward  amusement. 

"  How!"  cried  Johnny.  "  Why,  by  Juggernaut,  I  feel 
it — feel  it  all  over  /" 

"It  must  be  so  then,"  observed  Cassel,  while  he  re 
garded  Johnny  with  a  half-serious,  half-mischievous  eye. 
"But  does  she  love  you?" 

"  Not  that  I  know  of.  I  can't  complain  of  her  way. 
She  seems  to  like  my  company.  I  do  my  best,  you  know, 
old  fellow,  when  I'm  with  her, — and,  God  bless  her,  if  you 
will  only  sanction  it,  I  believe  I  can  get  her  to  come 
aboard  with  me.  What  do  you  say,  Cassel  ?"  And  Johnny 
moved  toward  his  arbiter  as  if  about  to  devour  him  with 
anxiety. 

"  Did  she  refer  you  to  me  ?" 

"  No  ;  I  wish  she  had.     I  haven't  asked  her." 

"  Then  why  do  you  come  to  me  ?" 

"  Because  you  are  the  Sweet  William  of  this  mansion, 
and  you  can  tell  me  to  mosey  in,  or  mosey  out,  just  as  it 
may  suit  your  fancy." 

"  Do  you  talk  that  kind  of  slang  to  Linda  ?" 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  315 

1  No." 

'  What  book  is  that  in  your  breast  pocket  ?" 

'  It  is  a  work  I  am  studying." 

'  But  what  is  it  ?" 

'  A  Miscellany,"  replied  Johnny,  growing  uneasy. 

'Let  me  see  it." 

'You  are  changing  the  subject  on  me,"  objected  the 
adroit  Johnny. 

"  No ;  I  imagine  that  the  book  is  in  some  way  connected 
with  the  subject.  You  can  let  me  see  it  at  all  events." 

"  Oh,  you  can  see  the  book,  if  that's  what  you  want," 
said  Johnny,  who,  while  passing  it  over  to  Cassel,  endeav 
ored  to  assume  an  innocent  and  careless  air  which  was 
very  poorly  sustained  by  his  feelings.  Cassel  glanced  at 
the  title  of  Johnny's  "Miscellany,"  and  then  deliberately 
leveling  his  clear,  mild,  but  incisive  eyes  upon  the  now 
sheepish-looking  youth,  said,  with  something  of  a  smile, — 

"I  thought  so." 

He  then  turned  to  the  book  and  read  aloud,  "Dictionary 
of  Poetical  Quotations." 

"Johnny,"  continued  Cassel,  with  an  amused  but  ad 
monitory  expression  on  his  handsome  face,  "  don't  get  to 
running  about  after  the  girls  with  your  shirt-tail  full  of 
violets  and  morning-glories." 

Johnny  felt  very  silly,  and  looked  just  as  he  felt.  Cas 
sel  discovered  here  and  there  in  the  book,  numbers  of  lines 
which  Johnny  had  pencil-marked.  He  read  them  off  to 
an  imaginary  fair  auditor,  in  a  tone  which  would  have 
aggravated  a  saint.  He  then  tossed  the  book  into  the 
glowing  grate. 

"  See  here !"  asserted  Johnny  with  an  awakened,  reso 
lute  protest  in  his  face  and  voice ;  "you  are  carrying  your 
authority  a- little  far." 

"  You  are  altogether  mistaken,"  said  Cassel,  smilingly. 

"No,  sir, — I  am  not  mistaken,"  replied  Johnny,  firmly. 

"Hercules,  don't  get  angry  now,  and  split  the  earth 
wide  open.  I  am  doing  you  a  service.  I  have  heard 
Linda  say,  more  than  once,  that  she  did  not  relish  this 
lackadaisy,  rhythmic  hash, — that  she  almost  despised  it. 
She  will  like  you  the  better,  Johnny,  with  the  '  Miscel 
lany'  in  the  grate." 


31  fi  TEKEL, 

11  Cassel !"  cried  Johnny,  his  anger  instantly  flashing 
away,  "  you  are  a  trump  to  tell  me  of  it.  Damn  the  book  ! 
— let  it  go  to  where  the  fires  are  made  of  brimstone,  for 
all  I  care.  And  now  if  you  will  only  say,  '  Spread  your 
sails, — I'll  give  you  a  puff,'  you  will  prove  yourself  the 
glorious  good  fellow  I  have  always  esteemed  you." 

"Quite  an  inducement,"  replied  Cassel;  "but  I'm  get 
ting  more  of  this  sort  of  business  on  my  hands  than  I 
care  to  manage." 

"  Then  grant  my  petition  in  short  order,  and  you  will 
not  have  so  much  to  manage:  you  will  then  have  more 
time  to  devote  to  your  own  little  affairfe  with  Cora,"  urged 
Johnny,  with  the  slyest  glance  of  insinuation. 

"You  are  talking  wildly,"  observed  Cassel. 

"  My  eyes  are  wild,"  retorted  Johnny,  laughing,  "and 
I  am  apt  to  talk  as  they  see, — only  between  you  and  myself, 
however,"  he  added. 

"  Johnny,"  said  Cassel,  shunning  the  subject  of  Cora, 
"  I  want  no  foolery  in  this  matter.  Young  men  scarcely 
know  their  minds  at  twenty.  I  am  but  little  your  elder, 
it  is  true,  but  circumstances  have  disciplined  me  beyond 
my  years.  I  will  tell  you  what,  in  my  opinion,  you  had 
better  do.  Continue  to  study  your  adopted  profession, 
and  endeavor  to  acquire  more  of  that  physical  and  mental 
polish  which  makes  a  man  current- in  good  and  chosen 
society.  "Visit  Linda  when  you  will,  but  do  not  propose 
to  her  inside  of  six  months.  That  is  a  very  short  time  in 
fact,  though  it  may  be  very  long  in  fancy.  Meantime  you 
can  consult  me  if  you  feel  inclined.  I  will  advise  you  of 
this  much  to  begin  with — for  I  am  better  posted  than  you 
might  have  supposed — that  Linda  is  pleased  with  you, 
you  great,  lubberly  fellow,"  and  Cassel  laughed  at  Johnny, 
who  was  in  no  way  disconcerted  by  the  good  news.  "  I, 
also,  like  you,  Johnny,  or  I  should  make  an  effort  to  halt 
you  right  here.  Whether  you  can  succeed  or  not,  I  am 
unable  to  say;  but  this  I  promise  you,  that,  as  time* flies, 
if  I  discover  any  increase  of  worth  in  you,  I'll  take  occa 
sion  to  call  Linda's  attention  to  it,  and — vice  versa,  re 
member." 

"Cassel,"  said  Johnny,  with  gushing  enthusiasm,  "give 
me  your  hand  on  it !  I  understand  you.  You  want  me 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  317 

to  make  myself  worthy  of  her.  I'll  do  it,  by  Juggernaut, 
or  run  the  boat  aground.  I  know  I'm  awkward,  but  then 
I  am  hardly  grown." 

"  For  Heaven's  sake,  and  Linda's  also,  don't  start  to 
growing  again !  You  are  as  big  as  a  buffalo  now.  But 
you  are  not  awkward,  Johnny ;  at  least,  you  will  not  be 
when  the  green  sap  that  is  in  you  turns  to  solid  wood.  A 
little  more  knitting  of  your  joints  together,  the  accumu 
lated  ballast  of  the  next  two  years,  the  maturing  of  your 
black  moustache  and  promising  whiskers,  together  with  a 
suit  of  fashionable  clothes,  two-story  hat,  and  patent- 
leather  boots,  will  'make  as  fine  a  specimen  of  you  as  a 
woman,  or  a  man  either,  would  wish  to  see." 

"  Cassel,"  said  Johnny,  smiling  all  over,  "  you  encourage 
me." 

"All  right  now, — be  a  good  boy  and  I  may  help  you. 
But  how  is  Carroll  ?" 

"  Oh,  he's  well  enough,  with  the  exception  that  he  seems 
to  be  getting  very  irritable, — losing  his  temper  entirely." 

"  What's  the  cause  of  his  irritation  ?" 

"I  don't  know,  unless  it's  about  Cora  Glencoe.  He  is 
very  often  moody  and  impracticable,  and  I  sometimes 
think  that  one  of  us  will  have  to  turn  the  other  out  of  our 
room,  which  we  jointly  occupy.  He  used  to  be  so  bright, 
and  as  full  of  fun  as  Linda  is  of  sweetness ;  but  now  he  is 
either  reading,  sitting  up  all  night  dreaming,  or  scribbling 
away  at  something  which  he  won't  let  me  see." 

"  Has  he  not  fallen  out  with  me  from  some  cause  ?" 

"  1  don't  know  that  he  has,  Cassel,  any  more  than  that 
he  seems  to  have  fallen  out  with  me  without  any  cause.  I 
can't  exactly  understand  him,  and  I  don't  like  it  as  well 
as  I  do  broiled  quails,  by  a  long  flit.  I  have  told  him  so 
a  dozen  times  or  more,  but  he  doesn't  appear  to  be  in  the 
least  concerned  whether  I  like  it  or  not." 

Carroll  May  was  acutely  conscious  that  he  was  endan 
gering  his  whole  scheme  of  life  by  continuing  to  venture 
within  the  enchanted  air  which  floated  about  Cora  Glencoe. 
And  yet  he  would  venture,  notwithstanding  that  on  each 
repetition  of  his  hazard  he  came  away  feeling  bitterly. 
Her  impenetrability  and  adroitness  exasperated  him  ;  and 
after  leaving  her,  he  would  go  to  his  lodgings,  sit  up  at 

27* 


318  TEKEL, 

night,  and  think  and  wretchedly  wrestle  over  his  almost 
hopeless  passion,  and  in  the  mean  time  mistreat  Johnny 
or  ignore  him  altogether.  He  felt  that  he  had  somehow 
started  wrong  with  Cora,  and  that  it  was  now  next  to 
impossible  to  get  himself  right.  When  with  her  he 
couldn't  let  her  heart  alone,  although  he  saw  that,  like  the 
sensitive  plant,  it  closed  against  him  whenever  he  ventured 
to  disturb  it.  In  the  face  of  this,  he  was  becoming  more 
frequent  and  importunate  in  his  visits  to  Cora.  Harry 
Gray,  also,  was  beginning  to  haunt  the  Boyd  mansion,  in 
defiance  of  Cassel  Rapid's  injunction  to  come  only  once  a 
week. 

Cassel's  position  of  guardian  was  getting  to  be  a  delicate 
and  disagreeable  one.  It  had  become  necessary — his  duty 
— to  interrupt  this  incessant  courting,  for  Cora  hardly 
could  claim  a  single  evening  as  her  own.  But  for  Cassel 
to  interfere  would  undoubtedly  put  his  motives  upon  the 
dissectiug-block ;  if  not  with  Cora,  certainly  with  Carroll 
May,  and  probably  with  Harry  Gray,  et  al.  He  had  been 
unable  to  discover  or  analyze  her  thoughts  and  wishes  in 
this  special  connection,  except  that  he  had  now  and  anon 
detected  indications  of  impatience  and  protest  on  her  part. 
Before  he  should  act,  he  determined  to  wait  a  given  time, 
much  preferring  that  the  proposition  for  reform  should 
come  from  her,  and  half  anticipating  that  it  would. 

Day  after  day  passed,  and  Cassel  was  beginning  to  ap 
prehend  that  he  should  be  compelled  to  exercise  his  au 
thority,  when,  one  afternoon  while  he  was  quietly  smoking 
his  cigar,  a  servant  handed  a  card  into  his  room.  The  card 
was  from  Cora,  and  Cassel  immediately  went  down  to  her. 

"  Do  not  throw  away  your  cigar,  Mr.  Rapid,"  said 
Cora,  as  Cassel  was  about  to  toss  away  his  Havana. 

"  I  dislike  to  take  it  into  the  parlor." 

"  Then  I  will  see  you  in  the  anteroom,  and  while  we 
discuss  some  very  grave  matters,  I  will  enjoy,  what  I  con 
fess  to  like,  the  fragrance  of  a  good  cigar." 

In  the  anteroom,  snugly  seated  by  a  coal  fire,  Cassel 
said, — 

"  Now,  Miss  Cora,  what  can  I  do  to  enhance  your  com 
fort  or  pleasure?" 

"  Mr.  Rapid,"  answered  Cora,  "  I  am  perplexed." 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  319 

"Who  is  not?"  asked  Cassel,  smiling. 

"  Few  are  not,  I  suppose ;  but  I  am  perplexed  in  the 
extreme." 

"  Not  jealous,  are  you  ?"  . 

"  I  am  not  quoting  Othello,"  said  Cora,  with  the 
slightest  little  pout;  "and,  by-the-way,"  continued  the 
young  girl,  genially,  "  did  you  know  that  our  red-haired 
dining-room  maid  contends  that  O'Thello  was  an  Irish 
man  ?" 

"  Didn't  know  it.  But  back  to  your  perplexity  ;  what 
is  the  matter  ?" 

"  I  see  too  much  company,"  answered  Cora,  while  a  deep 
blush  suffused  her  fair  cheeks. 

"  Do  you  see  too  much  company,  or  see  the  same  com 
pany  too  often  ?" 

"  Too  often  would  probably  be  the  better  term." 

"Well, — what  are  you  going  to  do  about  it?" 

"  I  want  you  to  help  me." 

"  In  what  way  ?" 

"  Exercise  your  authority  as  guardian." 

"  And  get  myself  into  a  difficulty  ?" 

"  Then  don't  do  it.     I  will  act  for  myself." 

"  And  probably  get  into  a  still  worse  difficulty." 

"Show  me  the  way,  then,  you  wise  one." 

"  Tell  me  distinctly  what  you  wish." 

"  My  visitors  come  too  often.     Can  I  say  more  ?" 

"  Your  male  or  your  female  visitors  ?" 

"  Mr.  Rapid,  you  are  only  trying  to  provoke  me.  You 
know  well  enough  what  I  mean." 

"  Do  you  wish  them  to  come  at  all  ?" 

"  They  are  welcome,  if  they  choose  to  come  more  like 
angels." 

"  Making  their  calls  few  and  far  between  ?" 

"Farther  between  than  just  heretofore." 

"Yery  well, — I'll  frighten  them  away,"  said  Cassel, 
smiling.  "  You  shall  have  no  reason  to  complain  in  fu 
ture.  Whoever  calls  again,  whom,  at  the  time,  you  do 
not  wish  to  entertain,  just  send  his  card  to  me,  with  your 
initials  on  the  back  of  it.  I  will  entertain  him  myself 
and  be  responsible  for  the  issue." 

"  I  daresay  there  will  be  but  little  '  responsibility '  about 


320  TEKEL, 

it,  for  they  will  not  care.  But  I  shall  be  none  the  less 
obliged  to  you  for  your  kindness  and  trouble." 

Cora  arose  to  withdraw,  but  Cassel  detained  her,  say 
ing,— 

"  Please  do  not  go  yet,  unless  you  are  particularly  en 
gaged  ;  for,  now  that  we  are  here,  I  wish  to  talk  to  you." 

"  I  have  no  urgent  duty  waiting  upon  me  elsewhere," 
answered  Cora,  who  resumed  her  seat,  not  wholly  free 
from  the  apprehension  that  Cassel  might  have  something 
very  special  to  say  to  her.  She  could  not  well  refuse  him 
an  interview,  however,  be  his  object  general  or  particular. 

"  Do  you  not  think  that  '  Cora  Glencoe  '  is  a  beautiful 
name  ?"  asked  Cassel. 

"  I  do — notwithstanding  it  is  my  own,"  answered  Cora, 
wondering  what  Cassel  was  leading  up  to. 

"  Did  you  know  that  another  once  bore  it — your  little 
cousin  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  But  for  a  lamentable  accident,  there  would  have  been 
two  Coras,  and  you  would  have  escaped  all  the  strife  and 
uncertainty  which  has  been  crowded  into  your  short  career. 
The  other  Cora,  whom  you  do  not  remember,  and  who  was 
so  very  much  like  you,  had  she  lived,  would  have  nega 
tived  almost  every  element  of  discord  in  your  history  and 
experience." 

"  You  know  my  history  ?"  asked  Cora. 

"From  Alpha  to  Omega." 

"  I  do  not  know  yours." 

"  Do  not  ask  to  know  it.  I  could  not  tell  it  to  you  now. 
Some  time  I  may  tell  you." 

"  Where  are  your  relatives  and  kin  ?" 

"  Like  Logan,  I  can  say  that  there  runs  not  a  drop  of 
my  blood  in  the  veins  of  any  human  being." 

Cassel's  violet  glance  rested  upon  Cora  with  infinite  sad 
ness.  The  young  girl's  heart  thrilled  with  an  agony  of 
sympathy. 

"And  yet  you  are  happy,  Mr.  Rapid." 

"  Because  it  is  my  nature  to  be  happy, — I  cannot  help 
it.  It  is  irrepressible,  except,  rarely,  when  the  inseparable 
gloom  of  all  temporal  and  perishable  things  darkly  over 
comes  me,  and  makes  me  ready  to  welcome  a  premature 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  321 

summons  from  hither  to  Eternity.  But  my  present  object 
is  to  talk,  not  of  myself,  but  somewhat  of  you." 

"  Please  do  not,  Mr.  Rapid — spare  me — I  do  not  like 
the  subject — it  will  not  bear  discussion." 

"  You  probably  do  not  understand  me,  Cora." 

"  This  was  the  first  time  that  Cassel  had  not  addressed 
her  as  Miss  Cora.  She  glanced  at  him  shyly,  like  some 
half-tamed  bird  anxious  to  escape,  but  confused  or  charmed 
into  remaining. 

"  You  may  remember,"  began  Cassel,  "  that  when  you 
first  came  to  New  York  I  claimed  to  care  for  you,  and 
gave  you  what  might  have  been  denominated  a  prelimi 
nary  lecture,  surveying  with  friendly  exactitude  the  ground 
upon  which  stood  '  Cora  Glencoe,  the  Pupil  and  Ward.' 
It  has  always  been  my  wish  and  effort  to  be  perfectly  frank 
with  you,  and  my  desire  that  between  us,  as  guardian  and 
ward,  there  should  be  harmony  of  opinion  and  predilection. 
I  am  now  going  to  make  a  review,  with  additions,  of  the 
situation,  putting  you  in  the  light,  not  of  Pupil  and  Ward, 
but  of  Young  Lady  and  Ward,  and  in  this  review  I  am 
going  as  far  back  as  your  rocking-cradle.  My  own  ideas 
and  opinions  I  shall  give  to  you  without  reserve,  asking 
yours  as  freely  in  return,  that  in  future  we  may  thoroughly 
understand  each  other,  that  there  may  be  no  jar.  In  the 
first  place,  it  is  proper  for  me  to  inform  you  that  Maria 
Guthrie,  upon  whose  evidence  your  friends  had  hoped  to 
terminate  the  controversy  between  your  father  and  uncle, 
is  dead.  Your  future  is  yet  as  complicated  as  your  past 
has  been,  and  it  is  in  view  both  of  your  past  and  future 
that  I  now  speak." 

As  Cassel  proceeded,  Cora,  regarding  him  attentively, 
thought  that  there  was  no  eye  so  clear  and  true,  no  voice 
so  firm  and  gentle,  no  judgment  so  cloudless  and  correct, 
no  countenance  so  comely,  no  soul  so  limpid,  no  heart  so 
affectionate,  and  no  manhood  so  knightly  and  glorious  as 
Cassel  Rapid's.  As  in  her  first  interview  with  him,  months 
away,  she  almost  trembled  with  a  sense  of  inferiority. 
When  he  had  finished  this,  his  second  lecture,  which  ended 
in  an  interesting  colloquy,  Cora  said, — 

"  Mr.  Rapid,  I  know  better  now  who  and  what  Cora 
Glencoe  is  than  I  ever  knew  before.  How  is  it  that  you 


322  TEKEL, 

can  so  accurately  divine  my  current  thoughts,  and  wake 
up  others  which  perhaps  were  sleeping,  and  tell  me  so 
truly  what  I  feel,  and  even  dream  about  ?" 

"  It  is  because  I  think  for  you,  and  feel  for  you,  and 
dream  when  you  are  dreaming,"  he  answered. 

This  was  the  gentlest  thing  that  Cassel  had  ever  said 
outright  to  Cora.  She  did  not  know  exactly  what  he  in 
tended  to  convey  by  it, — the  solicitude  of  a  guardian  or 
the  fondness  of  a  lover, — but  she  repaid  him  by  a  glance 
from  her  deep  dark  eyes  which  told  him  that  she  also  felt 
for  him, — exquisitely. 

The  chief  transient  matter  which  had  perplexed  Cora 
was  the  fact  that  she  had  been  drawn  into  entertaining  so 
many  young  men,  or  a  number  of  young  men  so  often. 
Considering  her  state  of  suspension,  it  looked  to  her  like 
fashionable,  heedless,  and  even  heartless  dissipation.  She 
had  come  to  New  York  to  finish  her  studies,  and  to  be 
educated  in  the  superficial  ways  of  the  world  ;  in  pursu 
ance  of  which  it  was  very  proper,  even  essential,  that  she 
should  enjoy  some  of  the  advantages  of  society,  both  male 
r  and  female.  But  any  inordinate  indulgence  was  con 
demned  by  her  good  sense,  and  the  opposite  of  her  incli 
nations.  Before  this  interview  Cassel  was  feeling  a  little 
disappointed  in  Cora ;  but  when  the  interview  ended,  he 
was  better  satisfied  with  her  than  ever  before.  She  was 
now  become  the  Star  of  his  helm,  and  by  her  stellar  light 
would  he  fain  pilot  his  career.  He  now  unfettered  his 
heart,  and  it  throbbed  for  only  Cora,  in  all  the  world,  day 
and  night. 

"Would  you  be  displeased,"  he  asked  her,  "if  I  should 
take  the  liberty  of  being  less  conventional,  and  call  you 
Cora  ?" 

"  If  it  would  be  because  you  like  me  better,  I  would  not ; 
if  because  I  am  losing  your  respect,  I  should  not  only  be 
displeased,  but  grieved  also." 

"  The  cause  is,  that  when  we  are  thus,  alone,  I  would 
strike  out  the  Miss  from  between  us,  and  get  just  that 
much  nearer  to  you." 

Cora  looked  at  her  watch,  a  present  from  Oswald  Huron, 
and  observed  that  it  was  time  for  her  to  recite  French. 
She  arose,  and  Cassel,  rising  with  her,  held  out  his  hand 


OR   CORA  GLENCOE.  323 

He  did  not  see  her  so  very  often  in  private,  notwithstand 
ing  they  dwelt^under  the  same  roof.  She  took  his  hand 
and  raised  her  glance  as  if  to  say  adieu.  As  he  gazed  upon 
her  face,  chaste  as  bolted  snow,  a  heavenly  blush  spread 
over  it ;  but  her  eyes,  as  firm  and  dauntless  as  his  own, 
never  quailed  before  his  steady,  searching,  and  mesmeric 
gaze.  Cassel  ventured  to  put  his  hand  upon  her  faultless 
head.  Cora  did  not  flinch.  A  crisis  was  upon  her.  She 
fully  anticipated  from  Cassel  the  avowals  of  a  lover,  and 
she  had  fully  made  up  her  mind  to  reject  him  ;  for  no  one, 
however  glorious  and  thrilling,  who  knew  her  history  as 
he  knew  it,  should  ever  successfully  solicit  her  hand  until 
the  mystery  of  her  birth  and  lineage  was  solved.  She 
waited  almost  in  agony  for  him  to  speak.  "  Cora,"  said 
Cassel,  while  all  the  gentleness  and  fervor  of  his  nature 
was  rife  within  his  voic6,  "may  the  good  God  forever  and 
forever  bless  you,"  and  he  took  his  band  away.  An  instant 
storm  of  revulsion  swept  through  Cora's  breast,  and  her 
eyes  flashed  fire  into  Cassel's  soul,  as,  infinitely  relieved  and 
rejoiced,  she  turned  away  and  left  him,  saying  to  herself, — 

"  I  mistook  him  altogether,  and  wronged  him ;  for  he  is 
too  sensible  and  noble  to  insult  and  mock  my  unfortunate 
condition,  as  I  feared  he  was  about  to  do." 

Although  to  the  world  in  which  he  moved,  Cassel's  life 
appeared  to  glide  away  in  an  uninterrupted  stream  of 
pleasure,  contentment,  and  happy  tranquillity,  the  fact  has 
been  aforetime  reverted  to,  that  there  were  times  when 
memory  bore  him  down  into  the  bleak  lair  of  all  grievous 
and  agonizing  things,  wrenching  his  bold  heart  with  an 
guish,  and  changing  it  from  a  ruby  fountain  of  joy  to  one 
of  vitriolic  and  bitter  waters.  But  as,  heretofore,  we  have 
respected  the  privacy  of  these  absolute  and  deathly  mo 
ments,  we  shall  continue  to  do  so,  as,  to  intrude  upon  him 
while  he  wrestles  with  the  poison  of  the  past,  is  not  essen 
tial  to  the  full  volume  of  this  narrative,  and  would  only 
bring  pain  to  the  sensitive  reader  as  well  as  to  the  writer. 

Neither  was  Cora  free  from  care,  as  might  have  been 
imagined  by  those  who  only  superficially  and  casually 
knew  her ;  for  she  had  her  oft-recurring  hours  of  mournful 
meditation  and  heartache.  But  she  had  lived  all  her  life 
in  a  Gloom,  compared  with  which  her  present  existence 


324  TEKEL, 

was  bathed  in  sunshine  and  the  tranquillizing  sheen  of 
Peace.  It  is  not  then  to  be  wondered  at,  that  the  anxiety 
and  uncertainty  attendant  upon  her  peculia'r  plight,  should, 
for  the  time,  be  subordinate  to  the  tripping  pleasures  and 
half-tried  advantages  which  daily  waited  upon  her  and 
greeted  her  at  every  step,  in  such  captivating  contrast  with 
her  former  experience.  Like  Cassel  Rapid,  Cora  was  con 
stituted  to  enjoy  exquisitely, — or  to  endure  firmly ;  and, 
as  with  him,  the  Angel  of  Joy  would  almost  always  whip 
out  the  Demon  of  Grief  from  that  chosen  battle-ground, — 
her  tender  bosom. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

THE  ensuing  evening  Harry  Gray  called  to  see  Cora. 
She  sent  his  delicately-engraved  card  to  Cassel  Rapid, 
with  her  initials  indorsed  upon  it.  Cassel  smiled  to  think 
how  very  soon  it  had  become  his  province  and  duty  to  in 
terfere  between  the  young  girl  and  her  admirers.  He  also 
laughed  to  himself  in  anticipation  of  the  manner  in  which 
young  Gray  would  stomach  such  interference,  and  sus 
pect  it.  He  doubted  not  that  Gray  would  regard  it  a's  a 
very  selfish  interposition.  He  went  down  to  the  parlor, 
ready  for  a  rumpus. 

"  Now,  Rapid,"  cried  Gray,  as  Cassel  walked  in,  "have 
you  brought  yourself  in  here  to  be  willfully  de  trop,  and 
to  vex  me  with  the  unsolicited  agony  of  your  presence  ?" 

To  the  surprise  of  Harry,  who  expected  to  hear  a  dis 
claimer  and  a  round  of  excuses,  Cassel  answered, — 

"  Yes." 

"  Then,  by  Jove,  you  are  ungenerous,  Cassel,  and  inhos 
pitable.  I  won't  stand  it,"  said  Gray,  with  some  indig 
nation. 

"  If  you  prefer  to  sit  alone,"  said  Cassel,  "  have  your 
way ;  I  will  retire." 

"  But  I  sent  my  card  to  Miss  Huron  !" 

"  Miss  Huron  is  not  at  home." 

"  Not  in  the  house  ?" 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  325 

"  Yes, — she  is  in  the  house.  But  Miss  Huron  is  '  not 
at  home.'  Don't  you  understand  the  conventionality  ?" 

"Is  she  ill?" 

"  No." 

"  Have  I  offended  her  ?"  asked  Gray,  with  some  anx 
iety. 

"  No, — but  you  have  offended  me,"  replied  Cassel, 
smiling. 

"Who  the  devil  cares  for  you?"  cried  Gray,  impa 
tiently. 

"  I  do.  But  Gray,  to  cut  the  matter  short,  don't  you 
remember  that  I  told  you,  in  the  beginning,  that  Miss  Hu 
ron  would  see  you,  probably,  once  a  week  ?" 

"  Well, — yes, — I  believe  I  da." 

"I  also  gave  you  good  reasons  why  you  should  not 
come  more  frequently." 

"  You  gave  me  reasons.'' 

"  Good  reasons,  my  absent-minded  friend  Now,  why 
don't  you  restrict  yourself  to  weekly  visits  ?" 

''  Because  it's  such  a  bore  to  be  away  from  her." 

"  Well,  who  is  to  be  bored,  I  wonder,  you  or  she !" 

"  I'm  thinking  that  you  are  the  one  who  is  being  bored," 
answered  Gray,  saucily  and  insinuatingly. 

"  Very  well,  sir,"  retorted  Cassel,  "  I  don't  choose  that 
you  shall  bore  me." 

"  All  right,  Mr.  Tycoon,"  rejoined  Gray,  abandoning 
the  controversy.  "  By-the-vvay,  Rapid,  did  you  ever  tell 
her  what  a  fool  I  made  of  myself  over  that  confounded 
Greek  quotation  ?" 

"  No  need  to  have  told  her." 

"  She  appreciated  it,  did  she  ?" 

"Of  course  she  did.  The  next  morning  she  laughed 
very  gayly  with  me  about  it." 

"And  you,  doubtless,  were  excessively  gay  over  it. 
But  why  did  you  tell  me  that  downright  falsehood  when 
I  asked  you  if  you  were  a  Greek-reading  savant  ?" 

"  I  wished  to  gratify  you  by  affording  you  an  oppor 
tunity  of  making  a  display." 

"  And  of  showing  my Well,  never  mind  ;  I  have  yet 

to  hear  of  the  man  who  ever  caught  a  girl  by  reading  Greek." 

"  You'll  never  catch  one  that  way,  I  am  sure." 
28 


326  TEKEL, 

"  Rapid,  at  times  I  can  barely  keep  my  bands  from  your 
throat;  your  laugh,  at  me  especially,  is  so  damnably  pro 
voking." 

"  Then  why  provoke  it  ?     Ha!  ha!  ha!  ha!  h-a  I" 

Harry  got  up  and  started  out  with  a  great  load  of  dis 
gust  ;  but,  halting,  he  turned  about  and  said, — 

"  Rapid,  come  around  and  see  me  to-morrow.  I  am 
going  to  broach  some  wine  and  cigars, — just  out  of  the 
custom-house, — honest  transaction,  too, — articles  supposed 
to  be  genuine — come  and  judge — good-evening." 

When  Gray  was  gone,  Cassel  said  to  himself,  "  There 
goes  as  free-hearted  a  fellow  as  lives.  He  never  bears 
malice  or  sees  a  bugaboo." 

Cassel  returned  to  his  own  room.  In  less  than  fifteen 
minutes,  and  while  he  was  reading  the  history  of  the 
Tulipomania  which  made  lunatics  of  all  Htflland  more  than 
two  hundred  years  ago,  another  card  was  handed  in  to 
him.  He  took  it  and  read  "  Carroll  May"  upon  its  face  ; 
turning  it  over,  he  saw  Cora's  delicate  initials. 

"  I  don't  like  this,"  said  Cassel  to  himself,  laying  aside 
the  Tulipomania.  "  I'm  afraid  that  Carroll  is  not  going 
to  prove  as  tractable  and  reasonable  as  Gray.  I  am  certain 
that  he  will  vindictively  feel  that  I  am  the  mover  in  this 
business  for  my  own  aims  or  gratification." 

Cassel  went  down-stairs  and  entered  the  parlor  where 
Carroll  was  seated.  Young  May  was  by  this  time  as 
quick  as  lightning  to  pervert  the  conduct  of  Cassel  Rapid 
in  everything  which  appertained  to  Cora  Glencoe.  He, 
without  due  warrant,  had  reduced  Cassel's  motives  and 
recorded  them  against  him  ;  and  he  was  now  in  that  bitter 
and  self-asserting  state  of  mind  which  would  go  far  to 
ward  rendering  him  impervious  to  reason  or  the  religion  of 
patent  facts  and  circumstances. 

"  Good-evening,"  said  Cassel,  pleasantly,  as  he  entered 
the  room  and  offered  his  hand. to  Carroll. 

Young  May's  greeting  lacked  its  bygone  cordiality,  not 
withstanding  he  did  not  divine  the  wherefore  of  Cassel's 
inopportune  presence.  A  conversation  upon  indifferent 
subjects  ensued,  during  which  Carroll  was  rather  abstract 
than  concrete.  Cassel  hesitated  whether  he  should  tell 
Carroll  of  Cora's  newly-chosen  exclusiveness  or  wait  for 


OR   CORA    OLENOOE.  327 

him  to  introduce  the  purpose  of  his  visit  himself.    Carroll, 
becoming  impatient,  asked, — 

"  Is  Cora  at  home  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  I  sent  my  card  to  her,"  suggested  Carroll. 

"  She  is  engaged  to-night,  and  will  not  see  any  one." 

"  Not  see  any  one— -why  not  ?" 

"  As  I  tell  you,  she  is  otherwise  employed." 

"  She  might  have  sent  me  word." 

"I  bring  you  the  word  myself." 

"  By  authority  from  her  ?" 

"At  her  request." 

"  It  is  not  your  doing,  then  ?" 

Cassel  had  never  warned  Carroll  to  come  only  once  in 
awhile  to  see  Cora,  as  he  had  warned  Harry  Gray;  for 
he  thought  that  Carroll's  intimate  knowledge  of  the  young 
girl's  history,  coupled  with  his  own  native  good  sense, 
would  suggest  to  him  a  corresponding  respect  for  her  pe 
culiar  situation,  and  restrain  him  from  encroaching  upon 
her,  and  putting  her  at  fault  before  the  world.  Cassel 
had  for  some  time  been  sensible  that  Carroll  May,  entirely 
without  just  cause,  was  becoming  more  and  more  embit 
tered  against  him.  He  could  detect  it  in  Carroll's  eye,  in 
the  twitch  of  his  lip,  the  impatience  of  a  gesture,  and  the 
sarcasm  of  a  word.  He,  out  of  compassion,  and  placid, 
native  nobility,  had  borne  with  Carroll's  whisks  and  whims 
until  he  was  weary  of  them.  To  Carroll's  last  insinuating 
remark  he  answered,  calmly  but  somewhat  coldly, — 

"  Your  words  lack  courtesy,  Carroll." 

"I  discover  no  courtesy  here  which  merits  a  response." 

"  Seek  more  agreeable  environs,  then." 

"  Not  until  I  have  searched  this  thing  to  the  bottom." 

"  You  are  at  the  bottom  of  it  now." 

"  If  you  are  the  bottom,  I  will  go  beneath  and  beyond 
you." 

"  Carroll,  you  are  strangely  unjointed  of  late." 

"  If  I  am,  it  is  my  affair — not  yours." 

"  We  were  once  friends." 

"When  we  were  children." 

"And  might  well  be,  now  that  we  are  men." 

"  Tell  me  why  I  cannot  see  Cora  Glencoe,  and  why  she 
sends  you  here  to  deny  me  ?" 


328  TEKEL, 

Cassel  very  explicitly  told  him.     Carroll  answered, — 

"  If  you  were  not  my  rival,  I  could  see  her." 

"  Whether  I  am  or  not,  you  can  see  her,  but  only  at 
her  pleasure." 

"  You  require  me  to  make  my  visits  seldom,  while  you 
are  always  with  her,"  said  Carroll,  bitterly  and  fiercely. 

"  I  am  with  her  less  than  you  are." 

"  But  you  are  in  the  same  house  with  her,  and  see  her 
every  day.  Is  this  what  you  call  a  fair  fight  ?" 

"You  can  come  and  live  with  us  if  you  wish,  and  see 
her  just  as  I,  or  the  others  do,  who  are  in  the  house." 

"  It  does  not  suit  me  to  live  here." 

"  You  must  suit  yourself,  as  a  matter  of  course." 

"  Neither  does  it  suit  me  to  be  put  off  in  this  manner, 
and  have  this  denial  come  through  you." 

"  Possibly  you  do  not  accept  it  as  authorized  and  gen 
uine  ?" 

"  I  would  prefer  to  have  it  from  her  own  mouth." 

"  You  can  obtain  what  you  prefer,  if  you  will  await 
her  convenience  instead  of  endeavoring  to  substitute  your 
own.  You  can  afflict  her,  if  you  rudely  choose  to  do  so, 
by  compelling  her  to  repeat  what  I  have  already  told  you, 
and  what  I  am  well-nigh  tired  of  insisting  upon." 

"  I  will  not  be  put  off  at  your  dictation.  I'll  see  her 
to-night,  by  thunder  !  and  settle  this  matter." 

Cassel's  color  deliberately  rose.  Fixing  his  firm,  un 
yielding  eyes  upon  Carroll,  he  slowly  and  with  relentless 
decision,  said, — 

"  You  will  not  see  her  to-night,  Carroll  May." 

"  Then,  by  heavens !"  cried  Carroll,  springing  up  and 
dashing  his  fist  down  upon  a  marble  stand,  "  I'll  see  you 
in  the  morning!"  saying  which,  he  wheeled  about  and 
strode  out  of  the  mansion. 

Cassel,  who  had  entertained  for  Carroll  none  but  senti 
ments  of  kindness  which  expanded  even  to  indulgence, 
was  shocked,  grieved,  and  incensed  by  such  headlong  and 
unjustifiable  behavior.  He  had  anticipated  something  of 
a  scene,  but  nothing  so  outrageous  as  this.  Carroll  did 
not  seem  to  realize  or  care  for  the  stern  danger  which  he 
was  daring,  for  Cassel  was  by  far  his  overmatch,  and  had 
never  accustomed  himself  to  deal  gently  with  men  who 


OR   CORA    OLENCOE.  329 

insulted  him.  But  out  of  charity,  and  knowing  Carroll 
to  be  greatly  distempered  on  account  of  Cora,  he  was 
willing  yet  to  forgive  the  aggressive  faults  of  the  mad- 
hearted  young  lover,  and  continue  to  be  his  friend,  if  he 
would  let  him. 

Still  half  reflecting  and  half  wondering  how  U Amour 
could  so  unhinge  an  otherwise  clear-headed  young  man, 
Cassel,  lapsing  from  his  wonted  discretion,  sent  his  card 
to  Cora.  It  soon  came  back,  with  her  initials — now  fatal 
to  an  interview — indorsed  thereon. 

"There!"  said  Cassel,  rating  and  laughing 'at  himself; 
"  I  am  caught  under  my  own  deadfall.  She  treats  us  all 
alike.  I  was  incautious  and  too  precipitate.  She  is  right 
not  to  desire  an  immediate  discussion  of  the  beaus  whom 
I  have  turned  away  for  her.  Cora  is  most  certainly  '  not 
at  home'  this  evening." 

Cassel  went  to  his  room,  turned  up  the  gas,  lighted  a 
cigar,  and  once  more  essayed  Tulipomania.  From  reading, 
he  fell  to  dreaming,  when,  at  the  expiration  of  an  hour  or 
more,  there  came  a  tap  at  his  door. 

"  Come  in." 

A  servant  opened  the  door  and  said, — 

"A  gentleman  below  wishes  to  see  Mr.  Rapid." 

"  Have  you  his  card  ?" 

"  No,  sir." 

"  His  name?" 

"No,  sir." 

"  Request  him  to  send  one  or  the  other." 

The  servant  disappeared,  and  returning  in  a  few 
moments,  said, — 

"  The  gentleman  declines  to  send  his  card,  but  says  that 
his  business  is  important." 

"  Tell  him  that  I  decline  to  see  him." 

Cassel  had  already  divined  the  errand  upon  which  the 
gentleman  had  come,  and  he  determined  to  exact  of  him. 
to  the  outside  limit.  The  servant  reappeared  with  a  card, 
on  the  face  of  which  Cassel  read  "  Charles  Vermilion." 

"  Carroll  May  has  chosen  a  red-named  second,  at  least, 
to  aid  him  in  the  spilling  of  red  blood,"  said  Cassel  to 
himself.  "  I  will  go  down  and  have  a  look  at  this  Cochi 
neal." 

28* 


330  TEKEL, 

Cassel  entered  the  anteroom  where  the  gentleman  was 
waiting,  the  parlors  being  occupied  by  some  of  the  Boyd 
colony. 

"  Mr.  Rapid,  I  presume." 

"  My  name  is  Rapid." 

"  Allow  me  to  introduce  myself  as  Mr.  Charles  Ver 
milion." 

"  From  where?" 

"  From  the  city  of  New  York,  sir." 

"  On  important  business  if  I  mistake  not." 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  State  it." 

Mr.  Charles  Vermilion  handed  Cassel  a  note  in  reply. 
Cassel  took  it  and  recognized  the  handwriting  of  Carroll 
May. 

"Is  your  name  mentioned  in  the  body  of  this  note?" 
asked  Cassel,  without  breaking  the  seal. 

"No,  sir." 

"  Neither  is  it  on  the  envelope,  and  I  can't  receive  it." 

"  Jt  was  an  oversight." 

"  1  cannot  receive  it." 

"  Why,  pray  ?" 

"  I  never  transact  business  of  importance  with  an  un 
accredited  stranger." 

"  Do  you  doubt  my  identity — or  my  respectability  ?" 

"  Your  identity  is  no  guarantee  to  me  of  your  respecta 
bility  ;  for  this  is  the  first  time  I  ever  saw  or  heard  of 
either  you  or  Mr.  Charles  Vermilion." 

"  What  do  you  require,  sir  ?" 

"  Since  you  have  undertaken  this  business,  I  require 
that  you  shall  conduct  it  in  strict  conformity  with  the 
Code.  If  you  are  a  novice,  go  to  some  professional,  and 
he  will  rejoice  in  giving  you  instructions." 

"  You  are  rather  tart,  sir, — but  I  suppose  you  have  a 
right  to  demand  this  of  me.  Good-evening." 

Aside  from  Cassel's  scorn  for  these  too  often  pompous 
and  heartless  go-betweens,  he  wished  to  give  Carroll  May 
an  opportunity  to  repent  of  his  precipitancy  and  suppress 
the  hostile  note.  But  he  did  not  know  Carroll  as  well  as 
he  was  destined  to  find  him  oat.  Mr.  Vermilion  returned 
in  half  an  hour,  with  his  missive  decidedly  a  la  mode. 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  331 

Cassel,  who  did  not  care  to  be.  troubled  by  meeting  him  be 
low, — the  anteroom  being  now  without  fire, — received  the 
warlike  messenger  in  his  own  room.  "Vermilion  had  acted 
in  a  gentlemanly  though  unsophisticated  manner,  and 
Cassel  had  no  further  disposition  to  treat  him  harshly. 
C  issel  read  Carroll  May's  challenge,  and  laid  it  on  a  table. 
Vermilion  withdrew,  and,  as  it  was  getting  late,  Cassel 
went  to  bed  and  fell  regularly  to  sleep. 

In  the  morning  he  met  Cora  in  the  lower  hall,  and  tak 
ing  advantage  of  a  volunteer  opportunity,  he  asked  her 
into  the  nearest  parlor.  Being  seated,  he  said, — 

"  Cora,  I  turned  off  Mr.  Gray  last  night." 

She  looked  at  him  and  blushed,  then  asked, — 

"  How  did  you  do  it  ?" 

"  Oh,  I  turned  him  off  just  as  I  would  a  gas-light.  But 
would  you  like  to  know  how  he  acted  ?" 

"Yes,"  replied  Cora,  laughing,  '-'  I  would." 

"  Well,  he  conducted  himself  like  a  clever,  sound-hearted 
young  gentleman,  as  he  is ;  he  was  very  anxious  to  see 
you,  but  accepted  the  situation  handsomely." 

"  I  hope  he  did  not  feel  hurt,"  said  Cora,  gently. 

"I  also  turned  off  Carroll  May." 

"  Like  a  gas-light,  also  ?"  asked  Cora,  cutely. 

"  No.  He  went  off  like  a  rocket.  Here  is  the  difference 
between  Carroll  and  Harry  Gray,"  and  Cassel  handed  Cora 
the  hostile  note  which  he  had  received  overnight,  and  re 
quested  her  to  read  it.  She  took  the  note  and  glanced 
through  it,  then  hastly  dropped  it  as  if  it  had  been  a  sting 
ing  scorpion.  Springing  up,  she  set  her  heel  upon  it, 
while  her  face  turned  as  pale  as  pallid  wax.  Back  to  her 
face  again  rushed  the-  blood,  and  into  her  eyes  leaped  up 
that  invincible,  desperate  look  of  old  with  which  she  had 
outstood  the  stormy  master  of  Cliff  Hall.  Cassel  had 
never  seen  in  all  his  life  such  intense  and  vivid  loveliness, 
standing  out  like  some  heroic  fiery  statue,  and  blazing 
with  an  intrinsic  and  electric  tempest.  In  a  voice  which 
rang  like  steel,  she  said, — 

"  May  woe  be  unto  the  hand  that  sheds  blood  over  the 
luckless  head  of  Cora  Glencoe !"  and  bursting  into  an  agony 
of  tears,  she  threw  herself  upon  a  sofa,  and  sobbed  out 
the  storm  from  her  bosom.  Presently  she  looked  up  and 


332  TEKEL, 

said,  "  I,    alone,  have  brought  this   hateful   thing    upon 
you." 

The  sight  of  Cora's  wet  face  and  the  tear-drops  hang 
ing  on  her  lashes,  deluged  Cassel's  heart  with  tenderness 
for  her. 

"  Do  you  not  think  that  my  honor  is  at  stake  ?"  asked 
he. 

"  No  !"  cried  Cora,  vehemently.  "  Let  him  go  rave  to 
the  wind,  or  seek  council  from  his  father's  grave.  I  forbid 
you  to  meet  him  on  any  plea  of  mine.  I  shall  never  speak 
to  him  again — never ;  or  to  you,  Mr.  Rapid,  if  you  accept 
this  challenge." 

"  Cora,  do  not  be  rash  in  your  resolutions." 

"  Rash  ?  I  am  not  rash.  There  are  other  codes  besides 
the  technical,  desperate  code  of  Honor.  I  tell  you  that  I 
utterly  condemn  this  systematic,  diplomatic,  cold-blooded 
slaughter,  which  is  so  frequently  the  sequel  to  a  petty  dif 
ference  as  trivial  as  the  distinction  between  honor  and 
honor.  Carroll  May's  own  father  was  killed  by  it,  and 
my  uncle,  whom  I  thought  my  father,  did  the  deed.  I  once 
saw  a  murder, — down  on  the  beach  at  Creswood,  in  the 
shallow  water.  I  can  hear  the  words  of  the  murderer 
ringing  in  my  ears  now, — 'Go  home,  you  sparrow! — the 
falcons  of  Hell  are  abroad !'  But  it  is  too  terrible  to  think 
of  or  discuss ;  it  curdled  up  my  blood,  and  I  fainted.  I 
never  wish  to  see  or  hear  of  such  another  crime." 

Cassel,  for  the  first  time,  learned  that  it  was  Cora  who 
was  sitting  upon  the  Tarpeian  Rock,  looking  at  him,  when 
he  drove  the  dagger  three  times  through  the  heart  of  Jonas 
Aiken.  Should  he  ever  tell  her  of  that  event  in  his  history, 
— or  rather,  that  the  event,  which  she  so  vividly  remem 
bered,  was  a  central  part  of  his  history  ?  He  would  let 
time  and  circumstances  decide. 

"  Mr.  Rapid,"  said  Cora,  with  that  frankness  which 
Cassel  had  insisted  should  operate  between  them,  "  if  there 
is  one  on  earth  whose  hand  I  would  shield  from  the  spatter 
and  stain  of  blood,  it  is  my  kind,  and  patient,  and  knightly 
guardian.  I  know  that  it  is  the  nature  of  men  to  rush 
hotly  into  fatal  and  fearful  actions.  But  I  know  you  to  be 
cool  and  dauntless,  and  there  is  no  need  or  exigency  that 
you  should  sacrifice  your  honor  by  a  mistaken  effort  to 


OR   CORA   OLENCOE.  333 

maintain  it.  Promise  me  that  you  will  not  meet  Carroll 
May." 

"  Cora,  you  are  the  sweetest  advocate  that  lives  on 
earth.  You  tempt  me  sorely  to  break  over  a  different 
barrier  from  that  which  you  are  erecting.  But  here  is  my 
answer  to  all  you  have  said.  This  is  a  copy  of  the  original 
which  has  already  been  sent."  And  Cassel  bonded  her  a 
sheet  of  paper,  having  first  unfolded  it. 

Cora  took  the  paper  and  read  it  rapidly.  Over  her  anx 
ious  face  flashed  the  light  of  joy  and  relief. 

"  Whatever  the  cause,"  said  Cassel,  "  I  would  not  bring 
your  name  out  before  the  public,  either  on  bullet  or  bulle 
tin, — no,  not  for  a  thousand  such  points  of  honor  as  this." 

With  an  approving,  grateful,  happy  glance,  Cora  said, 
while  she  put  one  foot  out  as  if  ready  to  spring  away, — 

"Please  let  me  go  now;"  and,  as  Cassel  signified  his 
consent,  she  ran  out  and  up  to  her  room,  entered  it  and 
locked  the  door,  where  we  will  leave  her  to  those  wild  and 
wakeful  vicissitudes  which  thrilling  love  fails  not  to  shower 
down. 

Cassel's  reply  to  Carroll- May  was  briefly  as  follows: 

"  CARROLL  MAY,  ESQ. 

"  SIR, — Knowing  perfectly  well  the  mistaken  animus  of 
your  billet,  I  refrain  from  acting  upon  its  suggestions, 
trusting,  that  when  you  have  reflected,  you  will  withdraw 
it.  There  might  be  provocations  which  would  justify  your 
note,  but  none  such  exist.  In  this  matter,  or  lack  of  mat 
ter,  I  claim  the  privilege  of  judging  for  myself. 

"As  you  will: 

"  CASSEL  P.  RAPID." 

Carroll  May,  when  he  received  the  above  communica 
tion,  wrote  a  sarcastic,  biting,  and  extremely  personal  ar 
ticle,  which  he  appended  to  the  correspondence  already 
transpired  between  himself  and  Cassel  Rapid,  and  in  which 
he — as  was  customary,  and  is  yet — denounced  Cassel  as 
a  poltroon,  coward,  etc.  etc.  He  went  to  the  office  of  a 
city  newspaper,  to  have  published  the  correspondence  and 
his  additions  to  it.  The  newspaper-man  through  whose 
hands  this  fulmination  passed  for  acceptance  or  rejection, 


334  Tr.KEL. 

happened  to  be  acquainted  with  Cassel  Rapid,  and  hap 
pened  to  be  unacquainted  with  Carroll  May.  He  was  very 
well  aware  that  if  there  was  a  person  in  New  York  city 
who  was  not  a  poltroon,  coward,  etc.  etc.,  that  it  was  Cas 
sel  Rapid.  He  therefore  went  to  Cassel,  out  of  motives 
half  friendly,  half  cautious,  and  made  an  exhibit  of  Carroll's 
proffered  newspaper  assault,  at  the  same  time  seeking  of 
Cassel  information  in  regard  to  the  foundation  of  it.  The 
flint  in  Cassel's  soul  at  last  was  struck,  and  the  fire  flashed 
and  scintillated  from  it. 

"  Wait  a  moment,"  said  Cassel  to  the  newspaper-man. 

He  then  went  up  to  his  room,  belted  on  a  pair  of  pistols, 
came  down  again,  and  said, — 

"  Come  with  me  into  the  city." 

He  took  the  editor  to  O'Dare's  office,  and  carried  him 
back  into  a  shooting-gallery,  the  property  of  the  detective. 
Lighting  a  couple  of  candles,  he  placed  them  on  the  target- 
stand.  Retiring  to  the  far-end  of  the  gallery,  he  drew  his 
pistols,  one  in  either  hand,  and  leveling  them,  almost  si 
multaneously  snuffed  the  candles  with  a  double  discharge. 
Turning  to  the  newsman,  he  said, — 

"  So  far  as  Cassel  Rapid  is  concerned,  he  can  afford  to 
disdain  that  written  article.  But  there  is  another  besides 
himself  involved,  and  I  give  you  now  distinctly  to  under 
stand  me.  I'm  obliged  to  you  for  coming  to  me  first  before 
deciding  to  publish  what  you  know  to  be  a  lie.  If  that 
article  is  published  by  your  newspaper,  I  will  not  only 
hold  the  author  of  it  to  account,  but  I  will  snuff  out  every 
responsible  scribbler  or  proprietor  of  your  establishment. 
I  am  not  threatening  you  or  daring  you,  but  simply  notify 
ing  you  of  a  cold,  congealed  fact,  which  you  will  have  to 
encounter." 

The  editor  lighted  a  match  and  burned  the  manuscript 
before  Cassel's  face.  When  it  was  consumed,  he  observed, 
with  dry  humor  in  his  countenance, — 

"  That  ends  the  business.  I  am  not  yet  prepared  for 
your  snuffing  process." 

.  The  newsman  went  back  lo  his  items.  Cassel  stood 
in  the  front  door  of  O'Dare's  office,  and  amused  himself 
talking  to  a  raw  Irishman,  just  over  from  the  bogs  of 
Killarney. 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  335 

'  What  in  the  divil  is  that  ?"  asked  Paddy. 

'That  is  an  American  brunette." 

'Be  Jasus,  an'  I  thought  it  was  a  she  nager." 

'  What  are  you  doing  here,  Paddy  ?" 

'  Hunting  room  for  meself,  yer  honor." 

'  Plenty  of  it,  isn't  there  ?" 

'  Not  in  this  city,  jist." 

'  Why  don't  you  go  out  West  ?" 

'  Where  is  that,  if  ye  plaze  ?" 

'  Where  the  sun  sets." 

'Begorrah,  what  the  divil  is  out  there  ?" 

'  Have  you  never  read  Hiawatha  ?" 

'  Yis,  yer  honor, — high  wather,  and  low  wather,  and 
bilge  wather,  and  salt  wather;  but  it  has  been  a  bog  of  a 
stretch  since  I  read  any  whisky  wather.  Would  yer 
honor  be  so  benivolent  as  to  give  Paddy  a  dime  to  wet  the 
channel  of  Quid  Ireland  ?  I'm  off  the  immigrant  ship  jist, 
and  have  been  drinking  sea  wather  all  the  way  over.  My 
troat  is  as  dry  as  the  ashes  of  yer  honor's  cigar." 

Just  as  Cassel  was  tossing  a  silver  quarter  to  the  Irish 
man,  Carroll  May,  with  inflamed  eyes,  approached,  and, 
without  warning,  aimed  a  pistol  at  Cassel  and  fired.  The 
bullet  missed  its  mark,  and  Cassel,  springing  upon  his 
antagonist,  wrenched  the  pistol  from  his  grasp.  Seizing 
Carroll  by  the  throat,  he  crushed  him  irresistibly  down 
upon  the  pavement.  Hector  O'Dare  came  out  to  see  what 
was  the  matter.  Carroll  meantime  had  swooned,  and 
Cassel  Rapid  turned  him  over  to  O'Dare,  requesting  that 
he  be  taken  to  one  of  the  city  hospitals.  O'Dare  put  Car 
roll  into  hospital,  where  he- lingered  with  delirious  fever. 
When  Carroll  recovered,  he  was  somewhat  cooled  of  his 
hot  distemper,  though  he  was  far  from  being  cured  of  his 
hostility  toward  Cassel  Rapid.  But  he  was  destined  to 
be  very  suddenly  and  very  painfully  cured.  Returning 
from  sick  leave  to  the  office  of  Hallum  &  Gore  (his  em 
ployers),  after  sitting  and  talking  awhile,  he  was  handed 
a  note,  which  read  in  words  as  below : 

"  MESSRS.  HALLUM  &  GORE. 

"  GENTLEMEN, — On  receipt  of  this,  you  will  discontinue 
my  contribution  to  the  salary  of  Carroll  May,  your  assist- 


TEKEL, 

ant ;  as  circumstances  not  anticipated  have  rendered  the 
gratuity  inexpedient.  "  Respectfully, 

"  CASSEL  P.  RAPID." 

Carroll  turned  to  Mr.  Gore  for  an  explanation,  which 
was  very  explicitly  furnished  him.  It  began  to  dawn 
upon  his  mind  that  he  had  branded  himself  with  ig 
nominy  and  black  ingratitude  by  his  headlong,  vindic 
tive,  and  dastard  conduct.  He  picked  up  his  hat,  went 
out,  sought  his  room,  threw  himself  across  the  bed,  and 
groaned  in  spirit.  Carroll  began  to  realize  that  Cassel 
Rapid,  whom  he  was  teaching  himself  to  hate  and  abuse, 
had  been  his  thorough  friend,  to  the  rare  extent  of  secret 
charity,  delicately  chosen  and  bestowed.  He  revolted 
against  the  bitter  bondage  into  which  he  had  so  madly 
thrust  himself.  What  was  now  to  be  done  ?  How  could 
he  undo  the  pernicious,  galling  web  which  he  had  woven 
about  himself,  and  purge  himself  so  that  no  flavor  of  the 
past  should  be  left  to  sicken  the  future  ?  With  reaction 
ary  humility,  he  wrote  to  Cassel  a  long  letter,  which 
teemed  with  apology  and  repentance.  In  answer  to  it  he 
received  the  letter  below: 

"  CARROLL  MAY,  ESQ. 

SIR, — Yours  is  received,  and  I  allow  its  sincerity. 
But  when,  without  cause,  a  once  professed  friend  persist 
ently  seeks  my  life,  there  is  no  logic  to  convince  me  that 
there  was  not  something  radically  wrong  in  his  original 
friendship,  or  yet  something  strangely  perverse  in  the 
man  himself.  I  am  willing  to  bury  the  past — the  whole 
past,  early  recollections  and  all — and  to  meet  you  as  I 
would  meet  a  stranger,  and  be  governed  as  I  would  be 
with  a  new  acquaintance  ;  to  wit :  by  the  developments  of 
the  future.  I  have  no  extra  sentiment  or  sensibility  to 
squander  upon  shallow  reconciliations. 

"  As  you  like  it : 

"  CASSEL  P.  RAPID." 

Cassel,  who  had  been  slow  to  anger,  having  been  fully 
roused,  was  no  vacillating  child  to  offer  blows  at  one 
moment  and  kisses  the  next,  nor  a  heedless  wight,  to 
shift  his  friendships  and  affections  with  every  breeze. 


OR   CORA    GLEXCOE.  337 

Does  the  reader  remember  what  it  was  that  convinced 
Carroll  May  of  Cassel  Rapid's  genuine  nobility  ?  It  was 
the  knowledge  that  Cassel  had  secretly  added  a  few  hun 
dred  dollars  to  his  salary  as  assistant  in  the  law  office  of 
Halluni  &  Gore.  How  strange  it  is  that  a  few  ounces  of 
gold  should  be  accepted  as  brighter  and  more  weighty 
evidence  of  friendship  than  all  the  protestations  and  good 
fellowship  in  the  world!  Cassel  had  uniformly  treated 
Carroll  with  especial  kindness,  amounting  to  brotherly 
tenderness  and  forbearance ;  and  yet  it  required  a  paltry 
hundred  dollars  or  so  to  prove  him  sincere  1 

Carroll,  whose  impulses  were  generous  when  not  trav 
ersed  by  passion,  felt  abased  to  the  very  dust.  He  wrote 
another  letter  which  Cassel,  out  of  his  wakeful  compas 
sion,  could  not  forbear  responding  to  kindly.  "  Come  and 
see  me,"  pleaded  Carroll,  "  for  I  am  utterly  ashamed  ever 
to  intrude  my  face  upon  you,  even  to  ask  forgiveness." 
Cassel  went. 

"  Oh,  Cassel, — can  you  ever,  ever  forgive  me?" 

"  Carroll,  I  have  already  done  so.  My  coming  is  a 
pledge  that  the  air  between  us  is  clear.  If  it  becomes 
clouded  again,  I  hope  it  will  be  no  fault  of  mine." 

"  Cassel,  you  cannot  conceive  how  wretched  and  humil 
iated  I  am.  If  ever  I  wrong  you  with  bad  thoughts 
again,  may  all  the  powers  of  heaven  launch  out  destruction 
at  me !" 

"  Let  it  be  so ;  and  let  this  thing  be  buried  as  the  dead 
are  buried.  But  where  is  Johnny  ?" 

"  I  do  not  know.  In  my  madness  I  drove  him  from 
me.  I  have  not  seen  him  for  a  week.  When  he  left, 
after  having  tried  to  dissuade  me,  he  sternly  said,  'Car 
roll,  what  I  heartily  have  to  repeat,  is,  that  1  hope  Cassel 
Rapid  will  put  you  out  of  your  misery,  which  he  can  do, 
if  he  chooses,  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye.'  Since  then  I 
have  not  heard  of  him." 

"  Won't  he  come  back  ?" 

"  Not  until  I  send  for  him, — and  I  don't  know  where  to 
send.  He  is  the  best  fellow  in  the  world,  but  when  once 
he  sets  his  head  he  is  as  stubborn  as  Gibraltar." 

"  You  write  him  a  little  love-letter,"  said  Cassel.  "  I 
am  satisfied  that  he  will  be  in  to  see  me  before  long.  I 

29 


338  TEKEL, 

will  deliver  the  letter,  explain  to  him,  and  let  him  decide 
for  himself  if  he  will  come  back  to  you  or  not." 

In  a  few  days,  Johnny  was  back  with  Carroll. 

Carroll  May  determined  never  to  re-try  his  fortunes 
with  Cora.  He  would  not  look  upon  her  face  again,  as  it 
would  only  aggravate  an  already  hopeless  case. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

WE  have,  up  to  this  time,  omitted  to  state  that  Linda 
occasionally  paid  a  visit  to  her  old  home  in  Pennsylvania, 
where  her  family  and  the  neighborhood  petted  her  nearly 
to  death.  Also,  that  Neville  Huron  and  his  family  peri 
odically  visited  Cora.  Having  no  room  for  new  and  un 
essential  characters,  however,  we  refrain  from  encumber 
ing  our  history  with  the  kith  and  kin  of  Linda  and  Cora. 

Cassel  frequently  called  upon  O'Dare,  between  whom 
and  himself  a  stanch  friendship  had  early  taken  root  and 
now  throve  thriftily.  Each  recognized  in  the  other  the 
genuine  mettle  of  a  proper  man.  One  morning,  not  long 
after  the  little  affray  between  Cassel  and  Carroll,  in  which 
the  latter  had  attempted  to  shoot  the  former,  Cassel  stepped 
into  the  office  of  the  detective,  and  was  greeted  with, — 

"  Good-morning,  Mr.  Lightning." 

"  Good-morning,  Hector,  thou  spawn  of  Priam,"  retorted 
Cassel,  who  generally  came  prepared  for  0 'Dare's  drollery 
and  impudence. 

"  I  find  you  always  ready, — too  ready,  in  fact,  for  one 
of  your  age, — you'll  come  to  grief  yet  before  you  marry." 

"  If  not  before  that  event,  then  most  certainly  after  it, 
if  the  murmuriugs  and  mutterings  which  come  like  distant 
thunder  to  us  from  the  wedded  world  are  any  indication 
of  the  incessant  storm  which  might  well  be  supposed  to 
rage  there." 

"  Rapid,  what  ever  became  of  that  young  assassin,  Car 
roll  May  ?  I  had  no  idea  that  he  was  such  a  viper." 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  339 

"  He  is  down  in  the  Valley  of  Humiliation,  clothed  in 
sackcloth  and  ashes,  repenting  of  his  rashness." 

*"  When  I  left  him  at  the  hospital,  I  expressed  to  him 
my  kindest  wishes  that  he  might  enjoy  euthanasia  at  an 
early  age." 

"  Do  not  judge  too  harshly  of  him,"  said  Cassel.  "  He 
was  laboring  under  the  hydrophobia  of  an  unsuccessful 
love-passion.  But  have  you  any  Huron  news, — any  late 
developments  ?" 

"  Rapid,"  replied  O'Dare,  impudently,  "  you  don't  pay 
me  a  cent,  and  vet  you  come  around  about  once  a  week, 
suck  me  dry  of  '  news,'  and  then  toss  yourself  off  without 
even  saying  thanky.  Remember  that  my  information  is 
the  equivalent  of  gold,  or  trouble." 

"  I  offered  you  gold,  you  blood-hound,  and  you  would 
not  receive  it.  I  now  offer  you  the  other  equivalent, 
trouble,"  said  Cassel,  stepping  out  into  the  middle  of  the 
floor  and  pulling  off  his  coat. 

"  What  does  that  mean  ?"  asked  O'Dare. 

"  Come  out  here,"  cried  Cassel.  "  You've  always  been 
bragging  and  bantering  about  your  wrestling.  I  wish  to 
give  you  a  little  'trouble,' — I'll  tussle  with  you  for  your 
cash  secrets." 

O'Dare,  who  was  an  expert  wrestler,  threw  off  his  coat 
and  willingly  accepted  the  challenge. 

"  What  '  holt '?"  asked  the  detective. 

"  Indian  Hug,"  replied  Cassel,  and  the  champions  in 
stantly  clinched. 

The  two  men  were  about  the  same  weight  and  inches, 
but  Cassel  was  a  model  from  top  to  toe,  and  was  full  of  the 
activity  and  lithe  strength  of  youth  and  symmetry.  He 
was  also  an  expert,  trained  in  a  Border  School  where 
such  back-breaking  sports  are  common.  Before  O'Dare 
knew  what  was  the  matter,  Cassel  spun  him  around  and 
dusted  his  back  for  him.  O'Dare  got  up  somewhat  crest 
fallen,  and  saying, — 

"  Rapid,  you've  won  it  fairly  ;  but  I  don't  acknowledge 
that  there  is  another  man  in  New  York  of  your  weight 
who  can  do  the  like." 

"  Pshaw !  O'Dare.  I  can  throw  you  any  '  holt '  you 
may  choose, — side  holt,  Yankee  holt,  breeches  holt,  or  grab 
holt." 


340  TEKEL, 

"  Try  me  Yankee  holt,"  said  O'Dare,  hoping  to  redeem 
himself,  for  '  Yankee  holt '  was  his  forte. 

They  went  at  it  again.  The  struggle  this  time  wfts 
more  equal,  and  Cassel  came  near  to  losing  his  feet,  but 
by  a  dexterous  recover  he  shifted  O'Dare  off  his  pins,  arid 
landed  him  square  upon  his  hams. 

Cassel's  hearty  laugh  rang  through  the  office,  and  was 
joined  by  that  of  an  amused  and  admiring  clerk  who  stood 
looking  on,  while  O'Dare,  still  sitting  upon  the  floor,  gazed 
rather  foolishly  about  him,  as  if  to  discover  where  he  pos 
sibly  could  be.  The  sudden  change  in  his  polarity  had 
disconcerted  him.  Cassel,  mimicking  valiant  Jack  Fal- 
staff,  mocked  O'Dare,  saying, — 

"  'And  now,  my  lord,  I'll  caper  with  you  for  a  thousand 
pounds, — if  you'll  lend  me  the  money.'" 

"  Rapid,"  said  O'Dare,  getting  up  a  little  stiffly,  "you 
are  a  hell  of  a  bother.  But,  come ;  I'll  see  what's  on  the 
books,"  and  turning  to  his  immense  volume  of  Secrets,  he 
glanced  over  an  open  page,  and  continued:  "I  believe  I 
told  you  that  Maria  Guthrie  is  dead  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Since  then  I  have  learned  that  her  death  was  sudden, 
that  she  gave  no  verbal  statement,  and  left  no  posthumous 
papers,  in  regard  to  Miss  Cora  Glencoe  Huron.  If  she 
ever  divulged  the  secret  which  she  held,  it  rests  under  the 
seal  of  the  Catholic  confessional.  I  have  here  a  transcript 
of  her  epitaph,"  and  O'Dare  read  it  off.  "  This  is  all  that 
you  have  earned  by  the  '  trouble'  which  you  have  just  given 
me,  but  at  your  next  regular  intrusion  I  may  have  some 
thing  fresh  and  forcible  for  you." 

"  And  I'll  pay  you  for  it,  if  you  will,  in  your  own  chosen 
coin." 

"  Now  that  you  have  got  what  you  came  for,  clear  out ! 
I've  no  more  time  to  spend  unprofitably, — I'm  busy." 

"Good-morning,"  said  Cassel,  who  left  the  detective  to 
his  webs,  and  traps,  and  snares. 

Linda  Boyd  gave  a  large  Dinner  Party,  and  a  gossiping, 
lively  company  was  gathered  in  the  Boyd  mansion,  in  the 
midst  of  which  were  Johnny  Gale  and  Harry  Gray,  con 
spicuously.  Carroll  May  excused  himself,  being  under  a 
great  "press  of  business."  Johnny,  as  he  afterward  told 


OR   CORA    OLENCOE.  341 

Cassel,  "  was  doing  his  differential  best  to  get  Linda  into 
integral  calculus,  and  demonstrate  to  her  that  he  was  the 
most  charming  problem,  and  the  most  desirable  upright 
cone,  extant."  As  long  as  Cassel  would  joke  Johnny,  and 
Linda  smile  on  him,  he  felt  as  luscious  as  a  fig,  and  as  gay 
as  a  spring  lark.  Neither  was  Johnny  any  ordinary  "  catch." 
He  possessed  good  sound  sense,  was  becoming  polished, 
was  already  fine-looking,  was  industrious,  was  sober,  was 
full  of  generous  humor,  could  calculate  and  collect  the  in 
terest  on  Linda's  investments  to  the  accuracy  of  an  invis 
ible  fraction,  and  bid  fair  to  become  a  bright  utensil  "  about 
the  house,"  as  well  as  an  ornament. 

Harry  Gray  had  fenced  with  Cora  until  they  had  got  to 
be  very  good  friends,  and  she  was  periodically  glad  to  see 
him.  Cora  knew  that  Harry  loved  her,  in  his  free-hearted 
kind  of  way,  for  he  did  not,  in  the  same  kind  of  way,  hes 
itate  to  tell  her  so;  but  as  he  had  discretion  enough  not  to 
trench  upon  her  maiden  prerogative  of  yea  or  nay,  she 
passed  many  a  pleasing  and  pungent  moment  with  him. 
Harry  never  missed  finding  the  Boyd  mansion  on  Thurs 
day  night  of  each  week,  and  he  managed  to  get  an  occa 
sional  extra  glimpse  of  Cora  by  calling  at  odd  hours  on 
Linda. 

The  dining  was  done  with  all  the  delightful  brilliancy 
of  vivacious,  sweet  success,  during  which  the  tippling  of 
delicate  and  enthused  wine  supplied  the  saddest  and  most 
tedious  guest  with  intermittent  wit 

Rising  from  the  table  and  resorting  to  the  parlors,  it 
happened  that  Cassel  Rapid  and  Cora  became  seated  in 
close  proximity.  While  discussing  the  propriety  of  going 
to  church  oftener,  Cassel  was  handed  a  sealed  telegraphic 
dispatch.  Taking  it,  he  bowed  slightly  to  Cora,  and  said, — 

"  I  believe  it  is  etiquette  to  read  telegrams  when  and 
where  they  are  received." 

"  It  should  be,  if  it  is  not ;  for  the  very  sight  of  them 
implies  haste,"  replied  Cora. 

Cassel  tore  the  envelope,  and  at  a  single  glance  read  the 
four  words  which  had  come  over  the  wires.  Looking  up 
at  Cora,  he  observed, — 

"  Here  is  a  collection  of  words  which  would  make  some 
men  shiver." 

29* 


342  TEKEL, 

"  How  does  it  affect  you  ?" 

"It  is  a  relief;  putting,  as  it  does,  an  end  to  a  bad  bar 
gain,"  answered  Cassel,  with  a  smile. 

"  It  is,  then,  on  business  ?" 

"Yes;  prosy  business." 

As  Cassel  replied  to  her,  the  letter-sheet  floated,  as  a 
gate  swings,  about  in  his  hand,  and  the  telegram,  written 
in  plain,  bold  characters,  exposed  itself  to  Cora's  eye.  She 
had  no  desire  to  read  the  telegram,  but  as  it  was  so  brief 
and  distinct,  her  unprying  eye  mechanically  and  instantly 
caught  and  mastered  the  words,  without  an  effort.  The 
dispatch  was  directed  to  "  Cassel  P.  Rapid,"  and  read, — 
"Your  wife  is  dead." 

There  is  a  very  exceptionable,  novelistic  resort,  where 
excuses  can  be  found  for  singularly  situated  persons  who 
see  when  they  don't  want  to  see,  and  who  hear  when  they 
don't  want  to  hear  ;  compulsory  sight-seers  and  compul 
sory  eavesdroppers,  they  might  be  termed,  who  find  it 
utterly  beyond  their  power  to  escape  seeing  or  hearing. 
Now, — unless  the  sight  comes  quick  and  vivid,  as  light 
ning,  or  the  sound  is  loud  and  deep,  like  thunder, — there 
is  no  excuse  for  seeing,  or  hearing,  against  one's  will.  We 
can  suggest  an  infallible  and  invincible  escape  from  all  this 
conscientious  trouble.  Here  it  is.  When  anything  pre 
sents  itself  to  the  Eye,  which  the  Eye  does  not  wish  to 
see,  close  the  Eye,  and  the  Eye  won't  see :  a  very  simple 
and  ready  remedy,  unquestionably.  When,  by  fortuity,  a 
confidential  conversation  is  in  progress,  and  catches  an 
unseen  Ear  in  an  awkward  proximity  from  which  there  is 
no  escape,  if  the  Ear  sincerely  desires  not  to  hear  the  con 
fidential  conversation,  stick  a  finger  in  the  Ear,  or  fill  it  up 
with  mud,  and  the  Ear  won't  hear, — another  very  simple 
and  ready  remedy.  So  much  for  these  unwilling  spies  and 
eavesdroppers,  and  their  abettors,  the  unfertile  novelists. 

We  are  not  endeavoring  to  excuse  or  condemn  Cora  for 
reading  Cassel's  telegram.  It  swung  before  her  eyes,  and 
she  gathered  its  contents  as  the  eye  catches  a  flash  of 
lightning,  without  premeditation.  Cora  was  chilled  with 
horror  as  she  read  those  mortal  words,  "Your  wife  is 

m  •/ 

dead,"  and  it  was  with  the  utmost  difficulty  that  she  could 
restrain  herself  from  springing  up  and  placing  herself  en 


OR    CORA    GLENCOE.  343 

alto  before  the  assembled  and  watchful  company.  She 
kept  her  seat,  however,  and  soon  sat  like  a  stone  statue 
in  front  of  Cassel  Rapid.  He  was  quick  to  discover  her 
radically  altered  and  extraordinary  appearance,  and,  being 
alarmed  by  it,  anxiously  questioned  her.  She  barely  re 
plied  to  him,  and  after  sitting  awhile  she  got  deliberately 
up  and  went  to  her  room.  Cora  felt  outraged,  indignant, 
and  stricken  to  the  heart.  She  remembered  that  Cassel 
had  avoided  telling  her  his  history,  escaping  from  it  with 
the  plea  that  it  was  then  impossible  or  inexpedient,  but  that 
some  day  he  might  tell  her.  Who  was  this  Cassel  Rapid  ? 
and  who  knew  anything  about  him,  or  his  life  ?  How  did 
Mr.  Hope  know  him,  who  had  only  seen  him  for  a  few 
days,  except  when  he  was  a  little  boy  ?  Who  could  tell 
of  him,  and  of  his  hidden  ways  ?  Horror  predominated 
over  every  other  feeling  which  took  possession  of  Cora's 
breast.  "  Who  would  ever  have  so  wronged  him,"  said 
Cora  to  herself,  "  as  to  have  imagined  from  either  his  pub 
lic  or  private  tenor  that  he  was  a  married  man  !  But  how 
coolly  he  received  the  tidings  of  the  death  of  his  wife, 
making  a  satanic  joke  of  it,  and  hailing  it  as  the  finale  of 
a  losing  and  disagreeable  contract !  What  sort  of  a  creat 
ure  she  may  have  been,  I  find  it  difficult  to  imagine ;  an 
angel  or  a  Gorgon.  Who  would  dream,  that  knows  him  as 
I  do,  that  so  foul  and  horrible  a  spirit  lighted  up  those  pure 
and  dauntless-looking  eyes  of  his  ?  Who  would  divine 
that  a  heart  so  callous  beat  within  the  breast  from  whence 
come  words  and  winning  numbers,  so  true,  and  tender,  and 
soft  ?  Who  could  look  upon  his  blonde  face,  radiant  with  fatal 
beauty,  and  say  that  it  was  the  reflex  of  a  black  night  be 
hind  it?  Who  could  look  upon  his  manly,  matchless  form, 
and  account  it  but  the  seductive  garb  of  a  treacherous 
devil  ?  How  art  thou  fallen  from  heaven,  0  Lucifer,  Son 
of  the  Morning !  Ah,  but  it  is  a  bitter,  bitter,  bitter 
thing  to  me,  to  be  driven  to  think  of  him  as  thus  revealed." 
Although  Cassel,  some  months  previously,  had  stated  to 
Linda  that  he  was  a  single  man, — a  young  bachelor, — he 
had  never  made  a  similar  statement  to  Cora,  whose  acquaint 
ance  with  him  was  of  more  recent  date  than  Linda's.  Not 
withstanding  this,  Cora  could  regard  him  in  no  conceiva 
ble  attitude  but  that  of  a  deliberate  impostor.  But  could 


344  TEKEL, 

she  openly  fall  out  with  him,  and  show  resentment,  be 
cause  he  had  been  married  to  a  woman,  and  because  that 
woman  was  dead,  and  because  he  appeared  to  consider  it 
a  good  riddance, — the  gratifying  close  of  an  originally  bad 
bargain  ?  Was  it  any  of  her  concern  whether  he  had  or 
had  not  been  married  ?  Then,  how  many  were  there  in 
the  world  who  might  regard  the  decease  of  a  husband  or 
wife  as  a  welcome  deliverance  ?  How  was  she  to  make 
up  her  accusation  against  him  ?  He  had  never  declared 
himself  her  lover.  It  was  true  that  he  had  evinced  a 
tender  and  guardian  interest  in  her  ;  but  was  not  every  one 
about  her  very  tender  toward  her?  "Ah,"  said  she, 
springing  to  a  possible  solution,  "perhaps  it  is  my  tender 
ness  for  him  that  gives  a  bad  color  to  this  matter,  and  ex 
acts  of  him  what  I  have  no  right  to  demand.  Can  I  go 
to  him  and  say, — Mr.  Rapid,  you  have  deceived  me ;  you 
have  been  a  married  man ;  your  wife  is  just  now  dead,  and 
you  are  glad  of  it  ?  And  yet,  how  can  I  meet  him,  or  sit  by 
him,  as  of  old,  or  even  pretend  to  do  so,  when  I  shall  have 
to  breathe,  the  while,  an  atmosphere  loaded  with  horror 
and  the  rank  poison  of  dissimulation — of  my  own  dissim 
ulation,  in  fact,  if  not  of  his  ?" 

Cora  at  last  determined  to  write  to  Mr.  Hope,  and  posi 
tively  request  him  to  remove  her.  She  wrote  an  explicit 
letter,  which,  out  of  the  fullness  of  her  confidence  and  re 
liance,  acquainted  the  old  minister  with  the  true  reasons 
upon  which  her  special  request  was  based. 

She  prudently  determined  to  treat  Cassel,  if  she  could 
so  compel  herself,  with  customary  civility  and  considera 
tion ;  else,  she  might  openly  convict  herself  of  being 
incensed  against  him  upon  grounds  too  painfully  per 
sonal,  and  too  near  to  her  heart,  ever  to  be  admitted  or 
hinted  of. 

How  very  bleak  and  lonely  Cora  now  felt,  as  she  stood 
in  the  vast  world,  an  unconfirmed,  unfathered  child,  rudely 
roused  up  from  a  sweet  and  thrilling  dream  in  which  she 
was  just  beginning  to  taste  of  the  crystal,  sparkling 
waters  for  which  she  had  so  long  and  wearily  thirsted. 
She  likened  herself  to  the  parched,  desert-worn,  sun- 
smitten  traveler,  who,  being  led  by  deceptive  fortune  to  a 
bubbling  fountain,  is  warned  away  from  its  delicious 


OR    CORA    GLENCOE.  345 

coolness  by  the  roar  of  the  lion,  or  the  hissing  of  the 
deadly  serpent. 

But  Cora,  whose  dicipline  had  been  hard  and  stern, 
locked  within  the  stanch  vaults  of  her  breast  the  griefs 
which  clamored  for  free  utterance,  and  suppressed  with 
steady  fortitude  her  ever-rising,  full-forced  sobs. 

Cassel,  when  Cora  left  him  in  a  manner  so  inexplicable, 
feared  that  she  might  have  been  seized  with  a  sudden  and 
acute  illness.  He  went  to  Linda  and  requested  her  to 
follow  the  young  girl  and  investigate  the  cause  of  her 
strange  departure.  Linda  went  to  Cora's  room.  Finding 
the  door  locked,  she  tapped. 

"Who  is  it?" 

"  Are  you  sick  ?"  asked  Linda. 

"  No.     Please  do  not  come  in,  now." 

"  What  is  the  matter,  Cora  ?" 

"  Nothing  that  need  alarm  you, — I  am  busy." 

Cora  was  writing  to  Mr.  Hope.  Linda  returned  to  the 
parlors  and  gave  Cassel  an  account,  sotto  voce,  of  her  non- 
reception.  Cassel  was  far  from  being  satisfied.  He  knew 
that  Cora  was  acting  under  some  extraordinary,  painful 
influence,  and  he  watched  for  her  return  to  the  parlors 
with  much  anxiety.  But  she  did  not  come  again  that 
evening. 

Cassel  did  not  sleep  as  well  as  usual  the  ensuing  night, 
and  the  next  morning  he  was  awake  at  daylight,  thinking 
and  wildering  about  Cora. 

When  she  came  to  breakfast,  she  answered  to  his-  morn 
ing  salutation,  but  he  saw  in  her  eyes  a  sterile  response 
which  he  had  never  seen  there  before.  She  took  occa 
sion  to  withdraw  from  the  breakfast-table  while  Cassel  was 
listening  to  Uncle  Jesse's  account  of  the  wonderful  extent 
of  the  Russian  Empire,  and  its  wonderful  progress  in  en 
largement. 

"  What  do  you  intend  to  do  with  your  maps,  Uncle 
Jesse  ?" 

"Donate  the  copyright  to  American  institutions  of  learn 
ing." 

"  Upon  what  plan  are  you  now  working  ?" 

"  My  original  plan.  I  have  gathered  all  the  different 
maps  which  have  ever  been  published,  so  far  as  I  have 


346  TEKEL, 

been  able  to  get  them.  I  have  also  the  standard  his 
tories  of  the  nations.  Take  the  face  of  Europe,  as  an  illus 
tration.  I  have  gone  back  to  the  mystic  ages,  and  have 
mapped  out  what  appears  to  have  been  the  first  authenti 
cated  features  and  divisions.  Whenever,  by  war,  treaty, 
or  otherwise,  a  change  has  been  made  in  the  European 
countenance,  my  maps  will  show  it  and  give  the  corre 
sponding  date.  And  so  on  with  other  quarters  of  the 
globe.  You  apprehend  me  Cassel,  eh  ?" 

"  I  do.  Down  to  what  period  have  you  finished  your 
atlantic  and  historical  panorama?" 

"  To  the  time  when  Washington  erected  a  free  flag  over 
the  soil  of  America,"  replied  Uncle  Jesse,  with  pompous 
patriotism. 

"An  accurate,  thorough  work,  such  as  you  are  engaged 
upon,  would  be  inestimable  in  value.  It  would  take  rank 
with  our  most  popular  dictionary.  No  historian,  scholar, 
or  institution  of  learning  could  afford  to  do  without  it." 

Uncle  Jesse  was  excessively  gratified.  Cassel  had  long 
since  won  Uncle  Jesse  over.  He  spiced  the  old  fellow's 
life  in  numberless  ways.  He  would  take  him  on  a  drive, 
to  the  minstrels,  to  the  theater,  to  church,  to  the  hotels, 
to  the  shops,  sail  him  on  the  bay  or  up  the  river,  amuse 
him  with  droll  anecdotes,  and  put  him  at  home  in  many 
new  positions  Uncle  Jesse  was  always  ready  to  "  run  " 
with  Cassel,  confiding  everything  to  his  consummate  man 
agement,  believing,  as  he  did,  that  Cassel  was  invincible 
under  any  and  all  emergencies. 

But  Cassel  was  restless  this  morning,  and,  not  relishing 
his  breakfast,  he  escaped  from  Uncle  Jesse  and  went  to 
his  room. 

Cora,  sitting  alone  in  her  room,  received  a  card  from 
Cassel,  on  which  he  requested  the  privilege  of  seeing  her. 
She  wrote  a  note  in  reply. 

"  Mr.  Rapid  will  please  excuse  Miss  Huron,  who  notifies 
him  that  she  will  no  longer  tax  him  in  the  capacity  of 
guardian  and  mentor." 

She  folded  the  note,  and  sat  awhile,  holding  it  in  her 
hand,  and  tapping  it  with  indecision.  Finally  she  tore  it 
to  pieces,  saying  to  herself, — 

"What  need  to  send  this  note  ?     I  must  remain  in  the 


OR    CORA    GLENCOE.  347 

mansion  for  awhile,  and  an  open  rupture  would  make  it 
very  unpleasant  to  Linda,  who  is  so  dear  and  good.  But 
Linda  should  know  of  this  thing,  and  I  will  tell  her  of  it, 
but  not  until  I  bid  her  good-by.  I  will  see  Mr.  Rapid. 
Whatever  he  may  secretly  be  or  have  been,  his  counsel 
has  been  pure,  and  his  kindness  faultless." 

Cora  went  down  and  met  Cassel.  With  genuine  interest 
he  inquired, — 

"  Have  you  been  sick,  Cora  ?" 

"  No,"  said  she,  almost  shrinking  from  his  gaze. 

"  What  is  it  that  has  chilled  you, — have  you  heard  bad 
news?" 

She  could  not  keep  her  eyes  from  meeting  his.  Anxiety 
lent  additional  tenderness  and  magic  to  his  gaze,  and  Cora 
irresistibly  acknowledged  to  herself  that  his  countenance 
was  indelibly  stamped  with  honor.  Cora  quivered  at 
heart.  Could  this  indeed  be  Lucifer,  Son  of  the  Morning, 
glorious  and  magical  with  beauty,  come  to  snare  her  soul 
to  ruin  ?  She  felt  her  heart  giving  way,  but  her  mind, 
trained  to  strength  and  resistance,  she  maintained  inflexi 
ble.  To  his  last  question  she  answered  as  briefly -as  be 
fore, — 
•  "No." 

After  an  hour,  Cora  left  Cassel,  feeling  as  though  she 
had  been  tried  by  fire.  She  had  never  been  put  and  kept 
so  painfully  upon  the  alert,  lest  she  should  betray  herself. 
Her  very  soul  was  ravished  by  his  artless,  artful,  deep, 
but  baffled  solicitude,  and  trembled  upon  the  tremor  of  his 
words.  His  first  offerings  and  requisitions  were  ingenuous 
and  playful.  Cora  shied  from  them.  He  then  charged 
upon  her  with  numberless  persuasions,  which  trooped  in 
on  her  in  squadron  after  squadron,  but  without  apparent 
effect.  Next,  from  ambush,  he  sprang  suddenly  upon  her 
with  quick  questions,  as  soft  »and  unforeseen  as  velvet 
leopards  leaping  from  the  jungle  covert.  But  Cora,  in  ad 
vance,  was  armed  to  the  lips  against  him.  Whichever 
way  he  turned  he  was  met  by  an  inflexible  diamond  edge. 
Cassel  elicited  absolutely  nothing ;  but  deduction  taught 
him  that,  for  some  unimaginable  cause,  his  status  with 
Miss  Huron  was  what  it  might  reasonably  be  with  a 
spirited  and  exacting  girl,  to  whom,  under  very  unfavor- 


348  TEKEL, 

able  circumstances,  he  had  just  been  introduced  He  was 
conscious  that  the  scepter  had  departed  from  him.  That 
his  kingdom  was  successfully  revolted  against  him.  That 
his  gratifying  and  dulcet  dominion  over  the  waxing  and 
waning  of  a  pure  and  priceless  virgin,  was  at  an  end.  But 
why  it  was  so,  he  in  vain  fathomed  his  heart  and  mind, 
and  questioned  all  his  acts. 

Two  weeks  passed  away,  and  Cora  was  anxiously  look 
ing  for  an  answer  to  the  letter  which  she  had  dispatched 
to  Mr.  Hope.  Between  herself  and  Cassel  Rapid  she 
forced  a  tacit  agreement  that  he  should  see  to  his  own 
affairs  and  she  would  see  to  hers. 

Cassel,  who  intended  and  hoped  that  his  abatement 
would  be  but  temporary,  had  also  written  to  the  old 
minister,  informing  him  that  Cora  had  unaccountably 
frozen  herself  up,  and  would  not  be  melted ;  and  unless, 
through  Mr.  Hope's  influence,  she  could  be  induced  to 
explain  or  abandon  the  strange  position  she  now  insisted 
upon  maintaining,  that  he  felt  it  to  be  his  duty  to  notify 
Mr.  Hope  to  resume  direct  control  of  her,  until  he  might 
select  some  other  suitable  person  to  act  in  his  stead,  grant 
ing  that  Cora  continued  to  abide  in  the  city.  "  She  does 
not  particularly  need  a  guardian  here,"  wrote  Cassel,  "as 
her  conduct,  except  in  the  matter  which  necessitates  this 
advisement,  is,  as  a  rule,  thoroughly  well  considered,  and 
well-nigh  faultless.  But  it  is  better  that  there  should  be 
some  person,  some  approved  gentleman,  to  whom  she 
could  appeal  in  any  case  which  to  her  might  prove  an 
emergency." 

Mr.  Hope  was  abruptly  and  woefully  confounded  when 
he  received  Cora's  letter  one  day  and  Cassel's  a  day  or 
two  after. 

"What,  in  the  name  of  David,  does  all  this  mean?"  he 
questioned  of  himself.  "  I  wonder  now  if  it  is  within  the 
outside  limits  of  possibility  that  Cora  is  not  the  worst 
mistaken  little  maid  on  earth  ?  Cassel  a  married  man  ! 
an  impostor !  his  wife  just  deceased  !  and  he  perfectly 
contented  withal !  Cora  must  be  crazy.  It  is  out  of  all 
character.  With  all  her  advantages  she  does  not  yet 
know  Cassel  as  well  as  I  do.  As  the  sun  shineth,  so  is  it 
clear  to  me  that  Cassel  has  never  been  in  wedlock ;  or, 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  349 

granted  that  he  has,  the  tomb  of  his  wife  would  be  the 
temple  of  his  affections.  And  now,"  continued  the  old 
minister,  with  a  touch  of  peevishness,  "I  shall  have  to 
write  up  a  quire  of  foolscap  to  set  this  matter  to  rights. 
I'll  do  no  such  thing,"  asserted  he,  laughing  complacently, 
with  the  relief  of  a  timely  and  welcome  idea ;  "  but  I'll 
send  Cora's  letter  to  Cassel,  and  his  to  her,  and  let  them 
clear  up  the  difficulty  between  them,  without  more  ado. 
Cora  may  not  relish  the  process,  but  I  know  that  it  is  a 
thing  of  air  which  has  alarmed  her." 

Mr.  Hope  was  becoming  very  infirm,  and  it  would  have 
been  quite  a  task  for  him  to  have  conducted  a  correspond 
ence  which  promised  to  be  both  voluminous  and  intricate ; 
so  he  very  wisely  determined  to  make  a  double-barreled 
cross-fire,  and  kill  the  difficulty  at  a  simultaneous  dis 
charge.  If  he  was  not  intending  to  do  conventionally 
right,  he  cannot  be  accused  of  intending  to  do  wrong  in 
thus  exposing  Cora's  letter  to  Cassel's  perusal, — not  to 
mention  Cassel's  letter,  which  he  would  consign  to  Cora. 
He  regarded  them  as  mere  children,  and  most  old  peoj-'e 
are  apt  to  forget  or  ignore  the  incipient  punctilio  of  youth 
ful  modesty  and  unblunted  sensibility.  Mr.  Hope,  there 
fore,  conscientiously  cross-fired  the  letters,  without  a  word 
of  explanation,  except  the  scoring  on  the  margin  of  each, 
"  If  this  does  not  settle  it,  write  me  again." 

The  same  mail-bag  brought  back  the  redestined  letters. 
Cassel  was  not  in  his  room  when  Cora's  written  and  ex 
plicit  arraignment,  under  cover  of  Mr.  Hope's  envelope, 
was  left  conspicuously  upon  his  writing-desk. 

Cassel's  letter,  via  Mr.  Hope,  was  received  by  Cora, 
who  read  it  with  avidity.  Her  first  thought  was,  that 
here  was  something  about  Cassel  which  had  fallen  into  the 
hand's  of  the  old  minister,  and  with  which  the  latter  desired 
to  acquaint  her, — something  that  would  convict  Cassel.  It 
did  not  occur  to  her  to  consider  that  the  letter  was  written 
by  Cassel  intentionally  for  Mr.  Hope's  eye,  and  that  what 
ever  confessions  or  exposures  it  might  contain  were,  in  actu, 
et  in  rerum  naturd,  voluntary.  At  the  first  glance  she 
conceived  it  to  be  a  stray  letter  picked  up  by  Mr.  Hope, 
containing  a  damaging  evolution  of  heretofore  undeveloped 
facts  in  Cassel's  historv,  which  her  old  guardian  deemed 

30 


350  TEKEL, 

proper  to  lay  before  her.  Having  read  the  letter,  however, 
she  became  mystified,  and  wondered  why  the  minister  had 
adopted  so  strange  a  method  for  satisfying  her  petition. 
And  yet  she  was  pleased  with  the  contents  of  Cassel's 
communication.  It  evinced  for  her  a  correct  and  anxious 
care,  and  an  unembittered  spirit  of  self-abnegation,  tinged 
with  sadness ;  but  was  greatly  at  fault,  as  Cora  judged, 
with  regard  to  herself  and  "  his  inability  to  conjecture,  or 
hatch  out  from  a  prolific  and  busy  imagination,  any  cause 
or  motive  under  the  sun  for  her  singular  behavior." 

When  she  met  Cassel  at  the  dinner-table,  she  vouch 
safed  to  him  the  least  bit  more  of  kindness  than  of  late ; 
but  still  held  herself  distinctly  aloof  from  anything  like 
intimacy. 

After  dinner,  when  Cassel  went  to  his  room  mentally  dis 
cussing  the  propriety  of,  in  some  way,  constraining  Cora 
to  state  her  grievances,  that  he  might  meet  and  annihilate 
them,  he  saw  a  new  letter  on  his  writing-desk.  He  recog 
nized  the  ministerial  characters  of  Mr.  Hope,  and,  having 
torn  the  envelope  and  unfolded  the  inclosure,  as  readily 
recognized  the  delicate  tracery  of  Cora  Glencoe.  He  saw 
that  the  letter,  or  whatever  it  might  be,  was  addressed  to 
Mr.  Hope.  Turning  to  the  signature,  he  read,  "  Cora." 

"  Here  is  some  mistake,"  said  he ;  and,  getting  up,  he 
went  and  tapped  at  Cora's  door.  She  opened  it,  and 
started  with  surprise  as  she  saw  Cassel  Rapid.  He 
bowed,  and,  handing  her  the  document  which  he  still  held 
unfolded,  said, — 

"  Cora,  here  is  an  errant  something  which  I  wish  to 
return  to  its  original  starting-point." 

She  took  it,  glanced  at  it,  and  almost  sank  upon  her 
knees. 

"  Cora,"  said  Cassel,  firhily  but  tenderly,  "  what  is  it 
that  ails  or  afflicts  you  ?  You  certainly  are  possessed  of 
some  terrible  or  annoying  mistake,  and  yet  you  resolutely 
withhold  all  confidence  from  your  friends.  You  are  doing 
both  yourself  and  your  friends  great  injustice.  Have 
you  not  the  nerve  to  confront  me,  or  Linda,  with  your 
troubles,  or,  if  such,  your  hardships?" 

Cora  did  not  answer  him,  but  putting  her  hand  into 
her  dress  pocket,  drew  out  a  letter,  and  handing  it  to  him, 
s*id,— 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  351 

"  I,  too,  have  something  of  yours,  Mr.  Rapid." 

"How  did  you  get  it?"  asked  Cassel,  in  surprise. 

"By  mail — from  Mr.  Hope." 

Cora  reflected  a  moment  and  then  asked, — 

"  What  have  you  to  say  to  the  contents  of  my  letter  ?" 

"  I  know  nothing  about  its  contents.  I  have  not  read 
a  word  of  it." 

"  Mr.  Rapid,  is  that  true  ?" 

Cassel  would  rather  that  a  thunderbolt  had  fallen  upon 
him  than  for  Cora  to  have  asked  a  question  which  plunged 
like  a  bitter  shaft  down  into  his  heart.  The  wide  es 
trangement  which  was  implied  in  her  cruel  question  reaped 
his  tender-springing  hopes  down  to  the  very  stubble,  and 
a  frown  gathered  to  his  brow  as  black  as  the  loaded  cloud. 
Cora  remembered  no  countenance  as  expressive  or  intense, 
except  that  corrugated,  blazing  face  which,  once  upon  a 
time,  gleamed  over  the  shallow  sea  down  by  the  Larboard 
Strand.  Cora  repented.  She  hastily  and  earnestly  cried, — 

"  Nay,  forgive  me,  Mr.  Rapid, — I  will  not  insult  you 
with  such  a  question.  I  am  the  guilty  one,  for,  I  am 
ashamed  to  confess,  I  have  read  your  letter  a  dozen 
times;"  and  Cora  hung  her  head  while  her  pure  cheeks 
blushed  scarlet.  Finally,  Cora  looked  up  into  his  face 
and  said, — 

"  Mr.  Rapid  ?" 

"Well?"  asked  he,  with  an  expression  half  curious, 
half  smiling. 

"  Has  it  occurred  to  you  that  Mr.  Hope  intended  that 
each  of  us  should  read  the  other's  letter?" 

"  It  has,  since  I  have  just  learned  that  he  has  returned 
them  both — and  crosswise." 

"See  here,"  said  Cora;  "on  the  margin  of  my  letter 
are  the  words,  in  his  handwriting,  '  If  this  does  not  settle 
it,  write  me  again.'  I  find  the  same  words  on  the  margin 
of  yours." 

"  What  then  do  you  propose  ?" 

"In  consideration  of  the  fact  that  I  have  read  your 
letter,  I  offer  mine  for  you  to  read.  Having  done  so,  re 
turn  it  to  me.  I  will  then,  with  Linda,  meet  you  below, 
in  the  rear  parlor." 

Cora  felt  that  now  was  the  auspicious  time  for  dispos- 


352  TEKEL, 

ing  of  Cassel  Rapid.  He  took  the  letter  and  went  to  his 
room.  When  he  had  finished  it  and  re-read  it,  he  was  in 
one  sense  more  mystified  than  before.  How  could  Cora 
ever  have  conceived  or  imagined  that  he  had  been  married 
and  was  an  impostor!  Notwithstanding  his  mystification, 
he  felt  a  world  of  weight  lifted  from  his  breast.  Here, 
then,  was  the  germ  of  his  trouble,  and  the  occasion  for 
Cora's  chillness.  He  would  go  down  into  the  very  sub 
strata,  and  drag  the  thing  up  by  the  roots — whatever  it 
might  be.  He  proceeded  to  the  rear  parlor  and  notified 
Cora  that  he  was  ready  to  receive  her  and  Linda.  The 
two  girls  soon  entered,  and  sat  down.  Linda  had  noticed 
that  there  was  something  wrong  between  Cora  and  her 
brother  Cassel,  but  she  little  knew  the  beginning  or  the 
extent  of  the  alienation.  Cassel  met  them  with  a  smile, 
as  open,  and  pleasant,  and  triumphant  as  ever  came  upon 
the  face  of  man.  As  the  interview  between  Cassel  and 
Cora  progressed,  Linda  looked  on  and  listened  with 
wonder. 

"  So,"  said  Cassel  to  Cora,  "  you  regard  me  as  an  im 
postor,  do  you  ?" 

"  If  you  are  not,  I  trust  that  you  will  be  able  clearly 
.to  prove  it,"  replied  Cora,  firmly. 

"  Tell  me,"  said  Cassel,  "from  what  unknown  world  of 
ideas  you  have  gathered  this  most  singular  idea  of  all." 

"  I  come  here,"  said  Cora,  "  from  no  motive  born  of  cu 
riosity  to  pry  into  your  life-history;  but  as  Mr.  Hope  has 
referred  this  matter  back  to  its  sources,  it  becomes  my  duty 
and  exigency  to  cut  our  communication,  and  in  future  to 
take  care  of  myself.  For  Linda's  sake,  I  will  tell  you 
plainly  why  it  is  that  henceforth  I  choose  to  be  freed  from 
any  authority  which  heretofore  I  have,  for  good  reasons, 
acknowledged  and  willingly  submitted  to.  Accident  put 
me  in  possession  of  a  fact,  in  the  concealment  of  which 
you  ha/e  been  unmanly,  and  so  far  criminally  distinct 
from  honorable  custom  as  to  justify  the  impeachment  of 
your  moral  integrity.  I  will  state  to  Linda,  that  very  re 
cently  I  saw  you,  with  a  smile  on  your  countenance,  and 
with  after-comments  as  heartless  and  ruthless  as  stone, 
read  a  telegram  announcing  unmistakably  the  death  of 
your  wife.  I  speak  now  in  that  frankness  which  you  have 


OR    CORA    GLEN  COB.  353 

so  often  coveted.  Linda,"  said  Cora,  turning  to  the  girl- 
widow  with  an  eye  of  superlative  interrogation,  "  did  you 
ever  dream  of  such  a  thing  ?" 

Linda  came  near  to  fainting,  and  looked  to  Cassel  with 
a  wild,  thrilling  appeal  that  he  should  purge  himself  of  this 
strange  and  damaging  accusation.  Cassel,  who  had  been 
standing  up,  put  his  hands  to  his  face  and  shuddered  down 
into  a  chair,  overwhelmed  with  this  terrible  and  unex 
pected  revelation.  His  breast  heaved,  and  he  shook  with 
the  active  shame  and  ignominy  of  detection,  was  it  ?  No; 
but  with  a  full  jolly-boat  load  of  suppressed  laughter,  until 
finally  he  broke  out  with  a  contagious  carol,  as  ringing  as 
the  notes  of  a  silver  trumpet.  Cora  started  to  leave  the 
room. 

"  Please  wait  a  moment,  Cora,"  cried  Cassel,  with  a  joy 
ous,  mischievous  face ;  "  I  understand  it  all,  now,  and  can 
demolish  this  monster  in  a  twinkling." 

Cora  resumed  her  seat.  Cassel  drew  out  a  ring  of  keys, 
selected  one,  gave  it  to  Linda,  and  said, — 

"  Little  sister,  will  you  do  brother  Cassel  the  favor  to  go 
up  to  his  room,  that  there  may  be  no  suspicion  about  the 
matter, — open  the  red  leather  trunk  at  the  foot  of  the  bed, 
look  in  the  left  hand  far  corner  of  the  tray,  and  bring  down 
a  package  marked  in  red  ink,  '  Chicago  Dispatches  ?'  I 
am  interested  in  some  beef  and  grain  contracts  out  there. 
Those  contracts  are  my  wives.  One  of  them  is  just  de 
ceased, — that  is,  a  contract  has  proved  bad,  as  wives  often 
do,  and  has  been  suffered  to  die." 

"  Mr  Rapid,  I  would  prefer  to  go  now,  and  you  can  ex 
plain  to  Linda." 

"  No,  Cora.  You  have  confronted  me  with  an  accusa 
tion  ;  you  must  needs  confront  my  exculpation.  And 
furthermore,  I'm  going  to  wind  this  thing  up  in  a  frolic, — 
I  never  felt  so  saucy  in  all  my  life." 

It  began  to  steal  in  upon  Cora  that  she  had  put  her  foot 
into  it  up  to  the  ankle.  She  was  very  anxious  to  beat  a 
retreat,  but  Cassel  wouldn't  let  her.  Her  joy,  however, 
equiponderated  her  confusion,  for  it  would  be  as  joyful  as 
it  would  be  shameful  to  her — far  more  joyful — if  Cassel 
should  prove  innocent,  as  he  now  seemed  able  to  do. 

30* 


354  TEKEL, 

Linda  soon  came  back  with  the  package  of  dispatches. 
Cassel  took  it  and  said, — 

"  Cora,  you  may  act  as  judge,  jury,  and  prosecuting  at 
torney  ;  but  I  think  that  before  I  am  done,  you  will  dismiss 
the  suit,  or  at  least  enter  a  nolle  prosequi." 

Cassel  handed  one  dispatch  after  another  to  Linda,  in 
the  order  of  their  dates,  and  Linda  read  them  to  Cora.  It 
appeared  from  these  dispatches  that  Cassel  had  been  mar 
ried  almost  as  often  as  the  Sultan ;  that  some  of  his  wives 
had  died,  some  were  yet  thriving,  and,  strange  to  say,  some 
who  had  died  seemed  to  have  been  relumed  by  the  Prome 
thean  heat  of  a  little,  extra,  smelted,  precious  metal. 

"What  jn  the  name  of  goodness  does  it  all  mean?" 
asked  Linda,  her  large,  soft  eyes  looking  wonderingly  at 
Cassel. 

"  It  means  that  I  am  a  Brigham  Bluebeard,  looking  out 
for  another  victim  to  follow  in  the  train  of  those  several 
wives  whom  you  have  just  read  about." 

Cora,  in  utter  confusion,  but  still  with  boundless  secret 
gladness,  ran  out  of  the  room.  She  was  not  yet  at  the 
bottom  of  the  matter,  but  she  was  certain  that  Cassel  was 
a  live  young  bachelor,  and  that  she,  to  use  her  own  words, 
was  "  most  essentially  a  live  young  fool."  Up  in  her  room 
she  stormed  at  herself,  before  her  mirror, — 

"  You  illimitable  and  unmentionable  little  fool  you  1" 
she  cried  at  herself,  while  she  stamped  the  floor  with  vig 
orous  foot.  "Pshaw!  I  almost  wish  I  was  wicked  enough 
to  swear.  I  have  heard  men  say,  that,  at  times,  nothing 
but  a  round  of  hearty  swearing  would  empty  them  of  their 
feelings.  I  feel  just  that  way  now  ;  and  if  I  wasn't  afraid, 
I'd  ring  it  at  you,  you  goose  !  Don't  you  look  at  me  /" 
she  almost  shouted  at  her  reflection  in  the  mirror  ;  "  I've 
no  patience  with  you. " 

Cora  was  as  fidgety,  and  as  serio-comic,  as  ever  was 
Lotta  upon  the  public  stage.  We  will  return  to  Cassel 
and  Linda. 

"  But  what  does  it  mean  ?"  asked  the  bewildered  Linda. 

"  It  is  one  side  of  a  commercial,  telegraphic  correspond 
ence.  I  will  explain  it  to  you." 

Is  it  necessary  to  explain  to  the  reader  also  ?  If  so,  it 
can  be  done  by  substituting  "  wheat"  for  "  wife,"  or,  for 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  355 

the  dear  creature,  you  can  substitute  "beef  cattle."  But 
an  explanation  can  best  be  given  by  referring  to  numerous 
dispatches  of  like  facial  import  which  passed  from  the  City 
of  Washington  to  the  ,city  of  New  York  during  the  late 
war,  when  gold  gamblers  kept  foxy  agents  in  the  capital 
city,  as  newspapers  kept  correspondents  there,  to  nose 
around  and  smell  out  the  very  freshest  item,  and  then  run 
frantically  to  a  telegraph  office  and  send  it  off  by  a  flash 
of  lightning,  substituting  "  wife"  and  wife's  afflictions,  for 
the  Federal  army  and  its  vicissitudes.  No  official  watch- 
hawk,  placed  to  guard  the  wires  and  embargo  their  tell 
tale  capacity,  could  decently  refuse  the  transit  of  a  dispatch 
notifying  an  anxious  husband  of  an  event  so  melancholy 
and  tax-free  as  the  death  of  a  darling  wife,  but  would  cer 
tainly  and  absolutely  light  his  pipe  with  all  such  dispatch 
slips  as  might,  for  instance,  prematurely  convey  news  of 
the  defeat  of  McClellan,  or  Hooker,  or  Pope,  or  Meade,  or 
Burnside,  the  latter  of  whom  a  certain  bold  song  sings  out 
to  be  a  "  clever  fellow."  A  man  who  was  so  fortunate  as 
to  be  located  in  New  York,  and  to  possess  an  espoused 
myth  in  Washington  City  or  its  environs,  whose  patriot 
ism  and  sympathy  caused  her  pulses  to  wax  and  wane 
with  the  successes  and  reverses  of  the  Federal  arms,  and 
whose  symptoms,  like  the  finger  of  a  barometer,  warned 
the  desolate  husband  in  advance  of  a  storm  (of  good  or 
bad  news),  before  the  stormlike  reverberations  had  reached 
Wall  Street,  such  a  man,  we  say,  was  well-nigh  sure  of  an 
oft-recurring  gold  crop.  It  was  a  good  thing  in  those  days 
for  a  manipulator  of  Gold  to  have  a  tremendously  vicissi- 
tudinous  wife  in  Washington  City. 

Cassel  was  engaged  in  no  gambling  operations,  but  he 
and  Mr.  Lake  were,  with  a  large  capital,  successfully  com 
peting  with  a  presumptive  monopoly,  and,  to  guard  against 
their  prying  rivals,  and  against  telegraphic  treachery,  the 
commercial  lightning  which  came  to  Cassel  from  the  West, 
sometimes  told  remarkable  tales  on  his  "  wife,"  or  his 
"uncle,"  or  his  "  grandmother."  The  dispatch  which  Cora 
had  seen,  and  which  had  announced  to  Cassel  the  death 
of  his  wife,  was  a  mere  notification,  from  an  agent,  of  the 
unfruitfulness  of  one  of  his  commercial  and  least-favored 
spouses. 


356  TEKEL, 

Cora  felt  as  if  she  never  could  face  Cassel  Rapid  again, 
and  yet  she  determined  to  face  him  at  the  first  opportunity. 
All  her  confidence  in  him  was  back  again,  and  augmented. 
Notwithstanding  she  was  conscious  of  having  acted  from 
proper  motives  and  upon  apparently  sufficient  grounds,  she 
could  not  forbear  storming  at  herself  as  an  "illimitable 
little  fool."  She  met  Cassel  before  nightfall,  and  found 
him  as  joyful  as  Spring,  and  as  lively  as  a  volume  of  wit. 

"  But  why  did  you  not  tell  me,  or  accuse  me,  sooner  ?" 
he  asked  of  Cora. 

"  Because  I  thought  you  were  a  monster,"  she  laughed. 

"  Cora,  would  you  like  for  me  to  tell  Harry  Gray  about 
this  exquisite  complication  ?" 

"Tell  nobody,"  she  cried,  with  pleading,  mischievous 
eyes.  "Linda  has  already  promised  me." 

"  Do  you  think  it  possible  for  two  girls  and  one  man  to 
keep  a  secret  ?" 

"  Til  never  tell  it,"  answered  Cora ;  "  Linda  will  never 
tell  it :  so,  sir,  if  it  escapes,  you  will  be  the  responsible 
party." 

"  Personally  responsible  ?" 

"  Yes ;  '  personally  responsible,'  as  the  braggarts  say." 

"  I  have  yet  to  see  the  brace  of  girls  whom  I  fear  ;  but  I 
already  know  a  brace  of  them  to  be  loved,"  said  Cassel, 
adroitly. 

"And  I,"  said  Cora,  "  know  of  a  similar  brace  of  quails, 
in  the  forest  at  Creswood.  They  would  make  such  a 
nice  morning  lunch,"  and  Cora  ran  away  to  her  own 
room. 

Cora  was  again  at  ease  and  happy.  When  we  say 
"  happy,"  we  do  not  mean  that  she  never  reflected  upon 
her  condition,  for  she  very  often  did  so.  But  she  was 
much  more  charmingly  surrounded  than,  of  yore,  she  had 
ever  been.  As  a  tender  flower  which  has  struggled  up 
through  storm  and  gloom  will,  if  transplanted  into  sunny 
soil,  lift  up  its  head  and  repay  the  floral  nurse  with  vigor 
ous  and  fragrant  evolution,  so  Cora,  coming  out  of  the 
dismal  den  of  Cliff  Hall,  and  into  the  genial  atmosphere 
of  the  Boyd  mansion,  felt  as  reinforced  as  the  newly-nour 
ished  flower  which  opens  and  courts  the  nostril  or  the  bee, 
and  as  blithe  as  the  sunny  bee  which  ravishes  the  opened 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  357 

flower.  What  girl,  naturally  teeming  with  all  the  elements 
of  joy,  and  possessing  a  mind,  healthy,  firm,  and  elastic  as 
a  Toledo  blade,  could  have  been  otherwise  than  chiefly 
happy,  we  do  not  say  contented,  situated  as  Cora  was  ? 
In  addition  to  all  other  bright  things  immediately  around 
her,  she  was  in  that  blissful,  ravishing,  and  unreturning 
state  which  comes  but  once  upon  the  fresh  heart  and 
whispers  "  Eureka," — the  finding  of  the  very  thing  to  love. 
During  her  late  interview  with  Cassel,  that  in  which  he 
had  vainly  endeavored  to  capture  or  expose  her  motives, 
and  out  of  which  she  had  come  as  from  a  fiery  furnace, 
she  had  more  than  one  time  imagined,  that  if  he  was 
actually  a  monster,  then  were  all  men  monsters,  and  that 
he  was  the  most  brilliant  and  fascinating  monster  of  them 
all.  Fronting  him  with  an  outward  stoicism  which  baffled 
his  eye,  she  nevertheless  had  felt  him  pillaging  through 
all  the  sacred  places  of  her  heart,  like  an  active  chieftain 
of  Free  Lances  sweeping  through  a  city,  and  laying  a 
dominant  hand  upon  its  citadel,  its  shrines,  and  all  its 
hallowed  spots.  If  Cassel  was  so  strong  with  Cora  in 
the  character  of  Lucifer,  how  glorious  and  conquering 
would  he  be,  as  the  radiant  Apollo,  prince  of  the  blonde 
Day? 

Johnny  Gale  was  getting  along  with  Linda  so  well  that 
it  began  to  be  pleasant  with  her  for  Cora  and  brother  Cas 
sel  to  tease  her  about  him. 

The  last  letter  which  Johnny  had  written  to  his  father, 
after  having  hinted  at  his  "  ambition  "  in  very  ambiguous 
terms,  closed  with  the  following  characteristic  words: 
"  Now,  father,  I  think  I've  struck  oil,  and  I  want  a  couple 
of  hundred  to  test  the  well.  That  is,  I  must  be  fashion 
able  in  the  cut  of  my  coat,  and  keep  up  with  the  tailors. 
You  will  reflect,  father,  that  a  spider  without  a  web  would 
stand  a  frosty  poor  chance  of  catching  flies." 

Captain  Gale  and  his  wife  held  a  consultation  over  the 
letter  of  their  "wild  boy,"  which  eventuated  in  Captain 
Gale  sending  Johnny  the  wherewithal  to  weave  his  web. 
But  he  tookthe  fatherly  precaution  to  write  to  Carroll  May, 
and  inquire  what  it  was  that  Johnny  was  driving  at. 

"  He'll  go  and  tangle  his  hawser  with  some  loon  of  a  girl, 


358  TEKEL, 

like  as  not,  and  think  that  she  is  a  born  and  bred  princess," 
observed  Captain  Gale  to  his  wife. 

Carroll  May  replied  to  Captain  Gale's  letter,  but  referred 
to  Cassel  Rapid  that  particular  portion  of  it  inquiring  about 
Johnny's  "  ambition." 

Cassel  wrote  a  spicy  communication  to  Captain  Gale, 
giving  a  good,  though  amusing  account  of  Johnny's  court 
ship,  and  satisfying  the  parents  that,  in  the  matter  of  his 
"  ambition,"  Johnny  was  no  fool  by  a  fathom.  "  Mrs.  Boyd, 
who,  with  equal  propriety,  might  be  called  Miss  Linda 
Medley,  is,"  wrote  Cassel,  "just  such  a  girl  as  I  imagine 
Mrs.  Gale  was,  at  Linda's  age,  and  promises  to  make  just 
such  another  excellent  lady- woman." 

"  I  don't  ask  any  better,  Sallie,"  emphatically  spoke  out 
Captain  Gale,  as  he  read  the  letter  aloud  to  his  wife.  Mrs. 
Gale's  motherly  and  still  handsome  face  rippled  with  smiles 
at  this  double  compliment  to  herself,  and  at  this  cheering 
and  undoubted  testimony  confirming  Johnny's  good  discre 
tion  and  probable  good  luck. 

"Wife,"  said  the  gratified  captain,  having  finished  read 
ing  the  letter,  "  I  think  I'll  send  Johnny  a  couple  of  hun 
dred  more.  It's  well  enough  to  help  him  along  a  little 
when  he  is  disposed  to  do  a  good  thing, — and  both  Cassel 
and  Carroll  say  that  he  spends  his  money  judiciously 
though  freely." 

"Just  as  he  should  spend  it,"  responded  the  mother. 
"  And  nobody  has  a  better  right  to  furnish  it  than  you 
have,  for  you  made  it  yourself.  But  let  me  read  Cassel's 
letter  over  again." 

When  Mrs.  Gale  had  gone  over  it  herself,  she  observed, 
complacently, — 

"  I  never  read  a  more  pleasant  letter  in  all  my  life." 

"  Cassel  knows  how  and  where  to  launch  his  compli 
ments,"  said  Captain  Gale  humorously.  "  Now,  he  knew 
it  wouldn't  be  worth  his  time  to  try  and  honey-fuggle  me, 
the  young  rascal."  But  the  captain  was  honey- fuggled, 
nevertheless;  for  in  Cassel's  comparison  was  a  retroactive 
compliment  which  flattered  the  rugged  mariner's  youthful 
good  taste  and  discretion. 

By  way  of  dismissing,  for  the  time,  the  subject  of  Mat 
rimony,  and  winding  up  this  chapter,  we  will  peep  in  upon 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  359 

Uncle  Jesse  and  Cassel  Rapid,  who  are  engaged  in  a  con 
fidential  conversation.  In  fact,  all  of  Uncie  Jesse's  con 
versations  were  confidential. 

"  Uncle  Jesse,  why  didn't  you  marry  ?"  asked  Cassel. 

"  Why  didn't  I ! — You  mean  why  don't  I,  eh,  Cassel  ?" 
suggested  the  old  man,  straightening  up  his  collar. 

"  Well — yes — didn't  I  say  donH  ?"  asked  Cassel,  adroitly. 

"Yes,  you  didn't,"  maladroitly  replied  Uncle  Jesse. 

"  Well,  why  don't  you,  then  ?" 

"Because,  Cassel,"  said  the  old  man,  with  an  invinci 
ble,  harsh,  testy  look,  "  I  stand  no  nonsense." 

"  But  would  it  be  nonsense,  Uncle  Jesse,  to  persuade 
some  charming  woman  to  become  Mrs.  Jesse  Medley, 
who  would  tap  you  lovingly  on  the  cheek,  and  beat  up 
the  bed  for  you  ?" 

"  A-hem — Cassel — don't  mention  it.  Before  I  could 
turn  around  three  times  I'd  have  a  trundle-bed  full  of 
brats,  and  an  everlasting  caterwaul  and  nursery  pot-pourri 
ringing  and  raging  and  dinging  and  damnably  donging  in 
my  ears.  No,  sir, — one  Medley  in  my  establishment  is 
the  complement  exact.  My  grandfather  Moore  had  just 
thirty-three  and  ^  children.  The  ^  child  was  a  deaf  and 
dumb  idiot,  his  last,  and,  by-the-by,  his  favorite,  for  it 
slept  three-fourths  of  its  time,  and  when  it  was  awake  it 
made  no  more  noise  than  an  expeditionary  mouse.  The 
old  gentleman  advised  me,  if  ever  I  should  be  fool  enough 
to  marry,  to  search  me  out  a  free-martin — ha !  ha  !  h-a !  eh, 
Cassel  ?" 

"Marry  the  Moon,  Uncle  Jesse.  You  will  then  be 
Platonically  safe,"  laughed  Cassel,  who  abandoned  the 
incorrigible  old  bachelor. 


360  TEKEL, 


CHAPTER   XXXIII. 

TIME  passed  smoothly  away,  Spring  came  and  went, 
leaving  in  its  train  the  delightful  month  of  June,  through 
which  our  narrative  must  now  plow.  The  mornings  were 
bland,  and  the  days  were  quiet ;  everything  in  the  Boyd 
mansion  was  quiet,  except  two  or  three  busy,  throbbing 
young  hearts ;  everything  at  Creswood  was  quiet,  except 
Oswald  Huron  ;  and  all  along  the  Potomac  of  our  little 
history,  quiet  chiefly  reigned. 

Cassel  Rapid  went  around  to  O'Dare's  office.  O'Dare 
was  away — in  Philadelphia.  "  Could  the  clerk  give  him 
any  Huron  news  ?"  The  clerk  "  could  not." 

"  Are  you  not  a  new  hand  here  ?"  asked  Cassel  of  the 
clerk. 

"No." 

"  Do  you  remember  me,  then  ?" 

"  I  do  not, — we  see  so  many  people." 

"Were  you  in  the  office  one  day  when  O'Dare  and  I 
had  a  wrestling  match  ?" 

The  clerk  smiled,  and  answered, — 

"  I  recollect  you  now ;  Mr.  Rapid,  is  it  not  ?" 

"Yes." 

"  You  were  interested  in  the  case  of — let's  see — whom  ?" 

"  Huron, — I  told  you  when  I  first  came  in." 

"  Are  you  prime  in  the  case  ?" 

"How?" 

"  Number  one — first — principal  ?" 

"Yes, — that  is,  I  am  acting  for  myself." 

"  About  what  is  the  date  of  your  application  ?"., 

"  You  are  so  very  special,"  said  Cassel,  "  that  I  imagine 
I  had  better  wait  until  O'Dare  returns.  When  will  that 
be?" 

"Don't  know." 

"  What  do  you  know  ?     A  nything  ?" 

"Nothing." 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  361 

"  This  is  a  regular  know-nothing  office — when  O'Dare 
is  out  of  it,"  said  Cassel. 

"Just  so,"  answered  the  smiling  clerk. 

"Maybe  you'd  like  to  tussle  a  round  or  two?"  said 
Cassel.  "  Possibly  I  could  bang  something  out  of  you." 

"  No  objection  to  it  in  the  world,"  promptly  replied  the 
clerk.  "Just  walk  this  way,  into  a  back  room,  and  I'll 
try  you  one  fall,  if  it  kills  me." 

Cassel  had  only  intended  to  rally  the  clerk  a  little,  but 
now  that  his  banter  was  accepted  he  could  not  well  back 
out.  He  followed  the  clerk  into  a  rear  apartment  where 
the  floor  was  carpeted. 

"  You  pick  a  soft  place  I  observe,"  said  Cassel.  "  You 
probably  anticipate  a  fall  ?" 

"I  don't  wish  to  break  your  bones,"  answered  the 
clerk.  "  But  what  '  holt'  do  you  prefer  ?" 

"I'm  not  particular." 

"  Nor  I,"  retorted  the  clerk;  "  but  wait  until  I  take  off 
my  coat  and  watch." 

"  Take  your  shirt  off,  for  all  I  care,"  said  Cassel,  who 
had  already  determined  to  turn  the  clerk  a  double-and- 
twisted  summerset. 

The  office-man  quickly  stripped  himself  of  more  than 
his  coat  and  watch,  and  to  Cassel's  unbounded  astonish 
ment  O'Dare  stood  before  him  in  propria  persona! 

"  The  Devil!"  cried  Cassel,  surprised  into  an  absurdity. 

"  Whist,"  softly  replied  the  detective. 

"What!"  cried  Cassel,  still  in  amazement. 

"  Just  so,"  admitted  O'Dare,  "  but  not  so  loud." 

"  What  are  you  up  to  ?" 

"  It's  not  up,  it's  down." 

"  Down  where  ?" 

"  Into  '  hell'.  " 

"  What  do  you  want  down  there  ? — to  take  lodgings  in 
advance  ?  That's  not  fair,  old  fellow,"  said  Cassel,  drolly. 

"  I've  got  to  go  down  there  to-night  after  a  trinket,  and 
I've  been  trying  my  disguise  all  day  to  see  if  it  is  proof." 

"Well?" 

"  Not  a  soul  has  recognized  me." 

"  Put  it  on  again,  and  let  me  look  at  you." 
31 


362  TEKEL, 

O'Dare  resumed  his  disguise,  and  demanded, — 

"Now." 

"  O'Dare,  I  would  never  know  you,  unless  possibly  by 
your  eyes.  I  was  as  much  surprised  just  now  as  though 
you  had  risen  from  the  grave-yard." 

O'Dare  turned  about,  took  a  vial  from  a  pigeon-hole, 
sprinkled  from  it  a  yellow  powder  into  his  palm,  and  then 
rubbed  some  of  the  powder  in  his  eyes.  Soon  his  eyes 
became  bloodshot,  and  the  last  twinkling  vestige  of  his 
original  appearance  was  destroyed. 

"Don't  that  hurt?"  asked  Cassel. 

"It  smarts  a  little;  but  I  am  occasionally  under  the 
necessity  of  using  it." 

"  How  long  does  the  effect  last  ?" 

"Well,  half  an  hour  or  so;  but  I  carry  it  like  snuff  in 
my  vest  pocket,  and  can  renew  it  at  will  and  without  de 
tection." 

"  Now,  O'Dare,  about  Huron  vs.  Huron  ?" 

"  I'm  on  another  trail  in  that  interest." 

"  What  are  the  prospects  ?" 

"  They  fluctuate  just  as  I  succeed  or  fail." 

"  What  sort  of  a  trail  is  it  ?" 

"  I  am  tracing  a  positive  daguerreotype  with  which  to 
confront  a  negative  one." 

"  A  shadow,"  said  Cassel. 

"A  shadow  which,  if  I  can  catch  it,  I  engage  to  trans 
form  into  a  luminary,  under  whose  light  Miss  Huron's 
lineage  will  stand  out  in  bold  and  undeniable  characters, 
so  that  she,  or  her  anxious  lover,  can  read  her  title  clear." 

"  I  hope  you  will  succeed,"  said  Cassel.  "  Meantime  I 
will  not  be  overinquisitive." 

"  A  very  discreet  conclusion,"  replied  O'Dare,  who,  after 
a  moment's  reflection,  asked,  "  Rapid,  are  you  cool  ?" 

"  No. — I'm  rather  warm,"  answered  Cassel,  who  thought 
that  O'Dare  was  facetiously  alluding  to  his  somewhat 
heavy  woolen  coat. 

"I  don't  mean  caloric,"  said  O'Dare.  "Have  you  a 
good,  sound  nerve  ?" 

"I'm  healthy, — if  that  answer  suits  you." 

"  If  a  dangerous  and  desperate  desperado  (to  be  super 
lative  by  way  of  tautology),"  said  O'Dare,  "after  an  ex- 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  363 

citing  interlocutory  controversy,  should  come  at  you  with 
a  drawn  knife  to  cut  your  heart  out,  but  by  some  good  for 
tune  was  prevented  from  entering  upon  his  well-intended 
enterprise,  could  you,  immediately  after  your  peril  was 
passed,  sit  down  and  write,  without  a  shaky  hand,  a  note 
to  your  sweetheart,  inviting  her  to  the  juicy  joys  of  a 
strawberry  festival  ?" 

"That  would  depend  somewhat  upon  the  season." 

"  Say  that  strawberries  were  ripe." 

"Well, —  I  imagine  I  could,  almost;  but  not  having 
tried  it  I  can't  positively  say." 

"  Again,"  said  O'Dare  ;  "  are  you  grateful  ?" 

"  Yes ;  but  not  beyond  a  double  return  for  an  original 
favor.  If  a  man  should  assist  me  to  pull  my  boots  off,  for 
instance,  I  wouldn't  be  willing  to  set  him  up  in  the  boot 
and  shoe  business,  and  bolster  him  every  time  he  might 
be  likely  to  fail.  Gratitude  has  a  limit,  as  well  as  pa 
tience." 

"  But  don't  you,  when  you  come  to  reflect,  after  you  go 
to  bed,  without  having  said  your  prayers, — don't  you  con 
sider  yourself  resting  under  some  unrequited  obligations 
to  Hector  O'Dare  ?" 

"  Well,  yes, — I  can  answer  that  question  without  the 
reflection  implied  in  it." 

"  Would  you  not,  then,  like  to  lighten  those  obligations 
by  doing  him  a  service  ?" 

"  I  don't  know  but  I  would  ;  but  quit  your  hyperbolical 
and  diabolical  rhetoric,  and  bring  yourself  down  to  the 
preciseness  of  a  financial  budget;  I  then  may  be  able  to 
divine  your  meaning." 

"  Very  good.  I  am  going  down  into  '  hell'  to-night, 
and,  I  want  you  to  go  with  me." 

"  That  is  demanding  too  much  even  of  the  most  active 
or  morbid  gratitude.  But  tell  me  of  your  expedition  and 
its  object." 

"  I  wish  to  steal  a  ring  from  the  finger  of  the  Devil. 
Some  of  aiy  understrappers  are  away,  and  among  all  that 
I  can  command,  I  do  not  know  of  one  who  has  the  nerve 
to  go  with  me,  and  the  quick  discretion  to  do  the  exigeant 
thing." 

"  I'm  not  contracting  for  the  performance  of  any  exigeant 


364  TEKEL, 

feats  just  at  present.  But  can't  you  dash  a  chunk  of  ice 
at  the  Devil  and  freeze  him  out  ?" 

"To  be  plain,  Rapid,  if  you  are  so  disposed,  you  can  do 
me  a  favor  by  coming  with  me  to-night.  You  have  heard 
of  cutting  vessels  out  from  under  a  battery.  I  wish  to 
cut  a  man  out  from  the  dangerous  precincts  of  a  den,  with 
out  making  too  much  noise  about  it.  At  all  events  I  wish 
to  form  his  acquaintance  in  my  present  disguise." 

'  Why  don't  you  call  on  the  regular  police  ?" 

"  Regular  deuce, — they  are  boobies." 

"  Can't  the  New  York  police  arrest  a  single  man  ?" 

"  Yes,  and  spoil  my  game,  perhaps.  In  this  nest  I 
have  eggs  which  hatch  me  out  a  stingeree  every  now  and 
then.  I  don't  wish  to  break  up  the  nest, — only  to  rob  it 
of  a  fledgeling." 

"  What  do  you  want  with  the  man  after  you  get  him  ?" 

"  I  don't  particularly  want  the  carcass,  but  something 
which  I  suspect  to  be  in  the  clothes-pockets  of  the  carcass." 

"  Is  there  no  way  of  getting  it  without  going  down  into 
Pluto's  dominions  ?" 

"  Money  will  get  it,  but  I  won't  have  it  that  way,  not 
even  if  1  could  buy  it  for  a  cent.  My  professional  pride 
and  standing  are  involved,  and  I  must  all-wise  fail  before 
I  resort  to  money." 

"  O'Dare,  I  thought  you  were  a  prudent  man." 

"  Prudent !  By  Jupiter,  I  am  exercising  the  very  acme 
of  prudence.  Don't  you  know  that  if  I  suffer  myself  to  be 
blackmailed  once,  I  lose  prestige  with  my  friends, — the 
rogues  and  evil-doers, — and  that  every  devil  of  them  would 
try  it  on  me  ?  When  I  am  after  a  wretch  I  never  com 
promise  with  him,  though  I  am  often  constrained  to  suborn 
some  of  his  pals." 

"You  use  one  rogue  to  catch  another." 

"  I  set  A  to  catch  B  to-day,  and  to-morrow  I  reverse 
the  eccentric  and  set  B  to  catching  A." 

"  It  is  a  poor  rule  that  won't  reciprocate  in  its  work 
ings,"  said  Cassel.  "But  which  am  I  to  consider  myself, 
your  A  or  your  B  ?" 

"  You  are  my  Bee,  if  you  will  be,  whom  I  intend  to 
put  into  the  nose  of  the  Bruin  who  is  stealing  your 
honey." 


OR    CORA    GLENCOE.  365 

11  My  honey  !     What  interest  have  I  in  your  Bruin  ?" 

"  I  shall  not  tell  you  until  the  job  is  over ;  but  you  are 
interested,  I  assure  you." 

"  O'Dare,"  said  Cassel,  "you  have  taken  the  pains  to 
bottle  me  up ;  now  you  can  uncork  me  or  not,  as  you  will. 
But,  be  it  remembered,  I  never  do  anything  or  go  any 
where  unless  I  know  the  reason  why.  I  intended  to  go 
with  you,  on  the  score  of  your  past  services,  and  on  a  piece 
of  business  strictly  your  own.  But  now  that,  you  have 
brought  me  in  as  an  interested  party,  I  will  not  budge  an 
inch  until  you  tell  me  explicitly  wherein  I  am  interested. 
I  have  a  right  to  know,  so  that,  when  in  action,  my  own 
judgment  may  be  the  ready  fountain  and  mainspring  of 
ray  acts." 

"  Rapid,  did  I  make  such  terms  with  you  when,  in  your 
interests,  I  went  down  upon  the  Larboard  Strand  ?" 

Cassel's  eyes  flamed,  and  his  face  grew  hot  with  rushing 
blood.  Getting  up  and  fronting  O'Dare,  he  stretched  out 
bis  right  arm,  and  in  a  voice  which  cut  its  way  to  the 
hedged  heart  of  the  detective,  said, — 

"  May  the  arm  wither  when  it  ceases  to  serve  you  ! 
Come, — I  will  go  down  into  the  bottomless  pit  with  you, 
and  never  ask  a  question  as  to  my  errand.  If  you  have 
war  to  make,  let  it  be  war, — red-hot  and  up  to  the  very 
hilt.  If  I  flinch,  may  all  the  heavens  on  high  come  down 
and  dash  me  to  pieces  I" 

O'Dare,  with  some  regret,  saw  that  he  had  sent  a  bolt 
of  fire  into  Cassel's  inmost  soul.  It  had  not  been  his 
thought  so  thoroughly  to  electrify  him.  Rather  gently, 
he  said, — 

"  Sit  down,  Rapid.  You  are  entitled  to  more  confidence 
in  this  matter  than  I  have  admitted  or  bestowed.  It  is 
true,  as  you  first  contended,  that  if  you  go  with  me  you 
should  precisely  know  what  you  are  to  act  upon.  I  will 
now  precisely  inform  you,  and  leave  you  to  judge  whether 
or  not  you  are  an  interested  or  sympathizing  party.  So. 
When  I  discovered  that  Maria  Guthrie  was  dead,  I  went 
to  see  Neville  Huron  ;  he  was  disheartened,  and  so  was 
I.  Nosing  about  for  a  new  trail,  I  learned  that  he  had 
preserved  the  clothes  which  were  upon  the  infant  when  it 

31* 


366  TEKEL, 

fell  over  the  bluff;  also  a  locket  that  was  about  the  little 
thing's  neck. 

"  '  But,'  said  he,  '  they  were  dressed  exactly  alike,  and 
wore  lockets  which  could  not  have  been  distinguished  the 
one  from  the  other.' 

"  '  Did  the  lockets  contain  anything?'  I  asked. 

"  '  Each  contained  a  miniature  of  myself,'  said  he. 

"  '  What  style  of  miniature  ?' 

"  '  They  were  daguerreotypes.' 

"  '  Taken  at  the  same  time  ?' 

"'No.  The  miniature  in  my  child's  locket  was  taken 
first.  I  sat  for  it.  About  a  week  afterward,  when  I  was 
on  the  eve  of  visiting  my  brother  Oswald,  I  had  a  copy 
taken  from  the  original,  and  incased  it  in  a  locket  similar 
to  my  own  child's  locket.' 

"  '  And  the  copy  you  gave  to  your  brother's  child  ?' 

"'Yes.' 

"  '  One  of  these  daguerreotypes,'  said  I,  'was  a  negative 
and  the  other  a  positive.  Now,  can  you  prove  in  any 
way  which  one  it  was  that  you  gave  to  your  brother's 
child  ?' 

"  '  I  can,  by  some  old  family  servants,  who  were  really 
more  interested  in  the  trinkets  at  the  time  than  I  was.  I 
can  also  prove  by  them  the  battered  locket  which  came 
back  to  me  hanging  to  the  neck  of  the  little  corpse.  They 
have  seen  it  often.  The  plate  of  the  miniature  is  bent, 
the  result  of  the  little  one's  terrible  fall  over  the  cliff's 
side.' 

"  '  How  have  you  been  accustomed  to  part  your  hair?' 

"  '  On  the  left  side.' 

'"All  your  life?' 

"'  Yes,  since  I  was  grown.' 

"'Now,  Mr.  Huron,'  said  I, 'the  proof  is  at  hand.  If 
the  head  in  the  battered  locket  which  you  have  here,  parts 
the  hair  on  the  left  side,  it  is  the  copy  which  you  gave  to 
your  brother's  child,  and  that  child,  to  a  demonstrated  cer 
tainty,  lies  buried  in  your  vaults  ;  and  the  living  one,  Cora, 
now  in  New  York,  is,  to  a  demonstrated  certainty,  your 
daughter.' 

"  '  Have  you  ever  entertained  any  doubt  of  it  ?'  asked  he. 

"  '  No,'  said  I,  '  but  a  certain  Maryland  court  has.     If 


OR    CORA    GLENCOE.  367 

you  prove  up  this  locket  by  unimpeachable  testimony,  the 
court  is  bound  to  be  with  you,  and  your  daughter  becomes 
your  own.  Go  get  the  locket  and  let  me  see  it.' 

"  He  brought  me  the  locket.  The  hair  was  parted  on  the 
left  side,  and  the  whole  trinket  peculiarly  battered  so  as  to 
be  very  distinguishable.  I  then  gave  him  my  opinions  as 
to  his  best  mode  of  procedure,  and  came  away  to  New 
York.  Now,  Cassel,  the  sequel  to  this  conference  between 
myself  and  Neville  Huron  is  almost  enough  to  discourage 
even  Hector  O'Dare.  Every  time  I  roll  the  wheel  of  Cora's 
fortunes  up  the  hill  of  difficulty,  Neville  Huron  manages  to 
roll  it  down  again.  What  damnable  fool's  work  do  you 
suppose  he  made  of  it  after  I  left  him  ?  Still  confiding,  it 
seems,  in  his  brother's  sense  of  justice;  he  took  the  locket, 
went  down  to  Creswood,  stated  the  case  to  Oswald  Huron, 
showed  him  the  locket,  and  begged  him  to  abandon  his 
claim.  Oswald  Huron  requested  a  couple  of  days  for  de 
liberation.  Meantime  he  secretly  went  off  and  consulted 
with  a  villainous  lawyer  who  is  popularly  known  as  the 
rider  of  a  nag  called  '  Famine  ;'  and  the  upshot  was  that 
the  locket  was  stolen  from  Neville  Huron  before  the  two 
days  expired.  Oswald  Huron  then  bid  his  brother  bitter 
defiance,  and  cunningly  wrote  to  little  Cora,  here  in  New 
York,  to  send  him,  as  a  souvenir,  the  other  locket,  which 
she  had  fondly  preserved.  Innocently  she  sent  it  to  him. 
The  rider  of  '  Famine,'  specifically  designated  as  Mr.  At 
torney,  having  learned  the  value  and  l:earing  of  the  locket 
which  had  been  stolen  from  Neville  Huron,  managed  to 
get  possession  of  it.  He  is  a  professional  black-mailer, 
and  considered  the  stolen  locket  as  an  egg  which  would 
hatch  out  wealth.  But  he  could  do  nothing  with  the 
locket  by  remaining  within  ken  at  Creswood.  He  lived  a 
starving  life  there  at  best.  So  he  turned  out  '  Famine'  to 
thrive  or  succumb,  and  ratted  his  way  to  New  York,  for 
the  express  purpose  of  black-mailing  both  the  Huron 
brothers.  By  this  means  he  doubtless  hopes  and  expects 
to  see-saw  his  way  to  a  heavy  purse.  Neville  Huron  re 
ferred  the  whole  matter  to  me,  acknowledging  his  gross 
and  lamentable  indiscretion.  I  went  to  see  him.  I  then 
went  down  to  Creswood,  got  upon  the  scent,  traced  Mr. 
Attorney  to  his  den  in  this  city,  and  now  have  an  eye  on 


368  TEKEL, 

him.  He  is  in  fellowship  with  some  desperate  characters. 
Now  for  your  idea  of  getting  out  a  search-warrant,  and 
calling  in  the  police  to  arrest  him,  etc.  etc.  That  would 
never  do.  He  would  go  to  law  about  it,  and  if  he  saw  no 
other  escape  he  would  compound  with  Oswald  Huron  from 
whom  he  extracted  the  locket,  and  the  important  trinket 
would  find  its  way  back  to  Oswald  Huron,  and  in  all  prob 
ability  be  destroyed.  Where  it  now  is,  it  is  safe  from  de 
struction,  for  the  thief  holds  it  as  a  kind  of  collateral  assur 
ance  for  anticipated  cash.  He  has  already  made  written 
overtures  to  Neville  Huron,  who,  having  more  financial 
than  genealogical  sense,  declined  to  respond.  I  wish  to 
get  this  locket  quietly,  if  possible,  for  more  reasons  than 
one,  or  two.  If  the  locket  is  restored  to  Neville  Huron 
without  any  fuss  or  blazon,  the  impregnable  position  which 
he  once  held,  by  reason  of  its  possession,  will  again  be  his. 
But  if  we  get  into  a  lawsuit  over  the  locket,  it  will  become 
as  difficult,  probably,  to  prove  up  the  trinket  as  it  has  been 
to  prove  up  Cora  Glencoe.  Don't  you  see  ?" 

"  I  do,"  said  Cassel.  "  But  now  for  your  plan  of  opera 
tions." 

"  It  is  impossible  to  prearrange  a  plan,  and  that  is  why 
I  want  you  to  come  with  me  instead  of  some  damned  uuin- 
skull.  Everything  will  have  to  be  done  upon  the  sugges 
tion  of  the  moment.  We  may  accomplish  nothing  what 
ever  to-night,  except,  in  my  disguised  character,  and  your 
unknown  one,  to  make  the  personal  acquaintance  of  our 
man.  But  you  will  have  to  look  more  like  a  'rough  '  than 
you  do  now.  However,  I'll  fix  that  when  the  time  comes. 
I  shall  have  to  wear  this  disguise,  for  among  the  wretches 
whom  we  are  likely  to  meet  are  many  who  know  me  of 
old,  and  who  would  disembowel  me  on  sight  " 

"  What  time  shall  I  be  in  readiness  ?"  asked  Cassel. 

"  About  nine  o'clock  this  evening.     Can  you  shoot  ?" 

"Yes." 

"  But  can  you  shoot  well  ?" 

"  I  can  beat  you,"  replied  Cassel. 

"No, — you  can't  do  that,  I  am  certain." 

"  Come  into  the  gallery,  and  we'll  soon  see." 

In  the  gallery,  O'Dare  said, — 

"  Take  your  choice  of  pistols,"  pointing  to  a  rack  which 
held  at  least  a  dozen. 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  369 

"All  I  want  is  a  true  one,"  said  Cassel.  "Choose  for 
me." 

A  lively  contest  ensued,  in  which  there  was  so  little  dif 
ference  that  it  was  agreed  to  be  a  draw.  But  O'Dare 
frankly  said, — 

"  Cassel,  with  your  own  pistols,  you  would  beat  me,  if 
I  left  any  room  for  you." 

"  Do  you  expect  to  use  pistols  to-night  ?" 

"Only  in  self-defense.  I  took  the  precaution,  however, 
to  get  legal  warrants,  which,  if  I  am  compelled  to  plug  a 
man,  will  bear  me  out." 

"  Me  too?"  asked  Cassel. 

"  Or  any  other  man,"  answered  O'Dare,  with  a  humor 
in  his  tone  and  face  which,  with  the  slightest  recalled 
brogue,  made  him,  at  will,  so  droll  and  racy  a  companion. 

At  nine  o'clock  Cassel  called,  at  O'Dare's  office  and  said 
to  the  detective, — 

"  I  am  now  ready  4o  make  a  dash  for  the  Devil's  finger- 
ring,  or  privy  signet,  which  is  it  ?" 

"  It  may  turn  out  to  be  your  wedding-gift  ring,"  said 
the  detective,  insinuatingly.  "  But  strip  yourself  to  shirt 
and  drawers,  and  put  on  this  suit.  Take  those  diamonds 
out  of  your  bosom  and  sleeves,  and  put  in  these  pastes  to 
make  you  look  flashy.  Rapid,  I  would  give  a  dollar  to  see 
you  perfectly  nude, — I  imagine  that  every  inch  of  you  is 
athletic  symmetry  itself,  and  I  always  admired  symmetry, 
mental  or  physical." 

"  If  you  are  fond  of  looking  upon  nudity,  visit  the  Can 
can,  or  advertise  for  a  skinned  cat,"  replied  Cassel.  "  I 
strip  for  no  man  alive." 

Cassel  arrayed  himself  in  the  clothes  which  O'Dare  had 
provided  for  the  occasion,  and  stood  out  for  inspection. 

"  Damn  it,"  said  O'Dare,  a  little  impatiently,  "  your  face 
is  too  bright  and  handsome.  Let  me  put  some  yellow 
powder  in  your  eye." 

"No,  I'll  be  switched  if  I  do." 

"  It  will  never  do  to  go  with  that  face.  It  looks  like 
the  silver  shining  moon  peeping  out  of  an  old  clothes-bag. 
Something  must  be  done.  Here,  take  this,  and  rub  it  over 
your  phiz." 

"  What  is  it  ?" 


370  TEKEL, 

"Nothing  but  a  mixture  of  grease  and  gunpowder." 

Cassel  rubbed  his  hands  and  face  with  the  mixture. 

"  Now  "  said  O'Dare,  "  wash  in  cold  water,  without 
soap."  Cassel  did  so,  and  asked, — 

"  How  do  I  look  now  ?" 

"  Like  a  handsome  coal-heaver  with  his  Sunday  duds  on, 
— just  right." 

"  Are  you  ready  ?"  asked  Cassel. 

"  Yes.     Are  you  armed  ?" 

"  I  have  my  pistols.  They  are  lightning  to  the  center 
at  every  fire." 

"  Take  about  eight  inches  of  this  kind  of  stuff,"  said 
O'Dare,  handing  Cassel  a  double-edged  dagger.  "  Its  glit 
ter  makes  the  flesh  creep.  Here,  also,  are  some  brass 
knuckles.  I  have  something  better  still,  but  I  doubt  if 
you  would  use  it." 

"  What  is  it?" 

"  Pulverized  Cayenne  pepper  "      • 

"  Now,  that's  too  bad,"  said  Cassel,  laughing ;  "  you 
must  be  anticipating  a  fight  with  a  '  hell  of  ugly  devils'." 

"I  always  go  prepared,"  replied  O'Dare,  picking  up  a 
small  black-walnut  case  and  concealing  it  under  his  loose 
coat. 

"  What  is  that  for  ?"  asked  Cassel. 

"I  am  going  to  open  a  faro-bank.  But  listen,  and  tell 
me  if  this  contrivance  which  I  now  put  in  my  mouth 
changes  my  voice  beyond  recognition." 

"  It  does,  most  assuredly." 

"  You've  heard  faro-dealers  articulate.  I  must  not  only 
change  my  voice,  but  modulate  it,  a  la  Faro,  to  the  low, 
soft,  tender,  briefly  sweet  and  unctuous  grunt  of  a  grazing 
sow.  But  come  on,  and  I'll  explain  as  we  go  along." 

In  about  three-quarters  of  an  hour  Hector  O'Dare  and 
Cassel  Rapid  stepped  into  a  saloon  located  in  one  of  the 
most  dismal  parts  of  the  city.  O'Dare  handed  money  to 
the  bar-keeper,  and  said, — 

"  Give  me  a  ticket  for  a  vacant  table, — a  table  against 
the  wall,  mind  you,  and  not  out  in  the  center  of  the  floor." 

The  keeper  passed  over  a  numbered  ticket  and  then 
glanced  at  Cassel.  O'Dare  pitched  him  an  additional  coin. 

"  Here,  Ned,  show  these  gentlemen  below." 


OR    CORA    GLENCOE.  371 

"  Does  he  know  you  ?"  whispered  Cassel  to  O'Dare. 

"  No ;  but  he  knows  what  the  money  is  for ;  it  is  our 
entrance  fee  to  '  hell,'  the  gambling-room." 

"  I  thought  a  fellow  could  get  to  hell  for  nothing, — 
by  simply  letting  himself  loose  and  naturally  dropping 
into  it."  " 

"No,"  replied  the  humorous  O'Dare;  "he  must  com 
mit  some  overt  act;  he  must  do  a  turn  or  -two  for  the 
devil." 


CHAPTER  XXXIY. 

THE  apartment  into  which  our  two  adventurers  were 
ushered  was  capacious,  underground,  and  so  situated  in 
respect  to  the  street  and  the  upper  stories  of  the  building 
as  effectually  to  hush  up  the  sounds  of  revelry  and  brawl 
ing  so  common  to  this  subterranean  precinct.  The  apart 
ment  was  lighted  by  a  single  central  chandelier,  which 
was  fed  by  a  single  gas-pipe.  The  uses  of  the  room  were 
similar  to  what  were  those  of  the  basement  of  the  "  Bull's 
Head,"  in  San  Antonio,  Texas,  where,  some  years  ago, 
any  man  conforming  to  the  regulations,  and  who  could 
muster  the  means,  might  possess  himself  of  a  table  and 
spread  his  gambling  snares. 

Entering  the  room  and  mixing  with  a  couple  of  dozen 
men  or  more,  O'Dare  and  Cassel  found  themselves  in  the 
midst  of  a  piratical,  pugilistic,  cut-throat,  brazen,  desper 
ate-looking  crew.  O'Dare  saw  many  old  acquaintances, 
whose  recognition  of  him  would  in  no  way  have  conduced 
to  his  pleasure  or  safety  ;  and  among  the  men  who  were 
betting  at  an  active  faro-table  he  discovered  Mr.  Attorney, 
the  gentleman  whose  personal  acquaintance  he  desired  to 
cultivate.  He  took  quiet  occasion  to  point  him  out  to 
Cassel ;  he  then  stepped  to  a  vacant  table,  corresponding 
in  number  with  his  ticket,  went  in  between  the  table  and 
the  wall,  spread  out  the  customary  gambling  devices  of 
the  place,  and  struck  a  bell  which  was  attached  to  the 
table,  the  silver  sound  of  which  notified  all  lovers  of  "  haz- 


372  TEKEL, 

ard"  that  their  love  was  waiting  and  willing.  O'Dare's 
object  in  thus  ignoring  the  Statute  us.  Gambling  was  to 
give  himself  character,  influence,  and  respectability  in 
"  hell ;"  for  no  one  than  he  was  better  aware  of  the  fact 
that  among  this  habitually  impecunious  and  spasmodically 
pecunious  substrata  crew  a  gold-banked  dealer  was  envied 
and  respected,  and  admitted  to  be  the  very  top-gallant  of 
aristocracy  and  the  sky-sail  of  grandeur. 

O'Dare  not  only  succeeded  in  his  immediate  design,  but 
unexpectedly  and  fortunately  arrived  at  a  decisive  point 
in  the  ultimate  business  upon  which  he  was  venturing. 
A  number  of  fortune-fighters  gathered  at  his  table  ;  Cassel 
bet  freely,  and  O'Dare  at  one  time  was  solicitous  for  the 
stability  and  solvency  of  his  bank.  Several,  who  were 
having  bad  luck  at  the  other  table,  now  came  over  to 
O'Dare.  Among  these  recruits  was  Mr.  Attorney.  He 
bought  a  number  of  "  chips"  and  lost  them ;  he  bought 
more,  and  lost  again.  Turning  to  Cassel,  who  was  in  luck, 
he  asked  a  loan  of  five  dollars.  Cassel  let  him  have  it. 
He  soon  lost  it.  He  then  asked  O'Dare  if  he  might  bet 
jewelry.  O'Dare  consented  that  he  should.  He  pulled 
out  the  very  locket  which  the  detective  so  earnestly  desired 
to  get  hold  of,  and  asked, — 

"  How  much  do  you  value  this  at  ?" 

"Let  me  see  it,"  said  O'Dare. 

The  battered  locket  was  passed  over.  O'Dare  balanced 
it  in  his  hand  as  if  to  ascertain  its  weight,  and  then  with 
some  difficulty  sprung  it  open.  There  was  the  daguerre 
otype  of  Neville  Huron,  and  the  detective  was  not  slow 
to  perceive  that  the  hair  was  parted  on  the  left  side, — proof 
positive  to  him  that  this  was  the  kernel  of  the  obstinate 
nut  which  he  had  so  long  been  endeavoring  to  crack. 

"  What  is  it  worth  ?"  asked  Mr.  Attorney. 

"  Fifteen  dollars,  locket  and  chain." 

"  Say  twenty,  and  I'll  bet  it  all  at  once." 

"  Very  well,"  said  O'Dare,  willing  to  do  a  favor.  "  Make 
your  game." 

Mr.  Attorney  coppered  the  locket  upon  the  King,  but 
slyly  retained  the  end  of  the  chain  in  his  fingers.  The 
King  lost,  and  O'Dare  was  deliberately  reaching  out  to 
take  in  the  coveted  trinket,  when  Mr.  Attorney  dragged 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  373 

it  off  the  cloth,  and  put  it  back  into  his  pocket.  Every  eye 
now  turned  upon  O'Dare.  Even  among  the  lowest  gam 
blers,  the  act  of  which  Mr.  Attorney  was  guilty  is  regarded 
as  an  unpardonable  breach  of  fellowship  and  honor,  and 
such  an  act  is  always  disallowed  when  referred  to  the 
"  gentlemen  present."  But  the  "  gentlemen  present,"  how 
ever  ready  they  generally  are  to  decide  all  important  ques 
tions  of  this  kind,  never  or  rarely  take  it  upon  themselves 
to  enforce  their  decisions ;  and,  in  the  end,  it  amounts 
simply  to  a  contest  of  words  or  weapons  between  the  ag 
gressor  and  the  aggrieved,  with  the  sympathy  on  the  side 
of  the  aggrieved,  but  with  the  battle  to  the  strongest, 
nevertheless.  Although  O'Dare  had  suffered  the  locket  to 
slip  through  his  fingers,  he  was  conscious  that  he  had 
gained  an  advantage  and  an  opportunity,  each  so  great 
and  unexpected  that  he  was  determined  neither  to  release 
the  one  nor  neglect  the  other. 

"You  lost,"  said  O'Dare,  pleasantly. 

The  man  said  nothing. 

"  Pay  your  loss,"  insisted  O'Dare,  coolly.  ' 

"  It  is  worth  more  money  than  twenty." 

"You  accepted  myvaluation,  and  I  raised  it  at  your 
request  and  to  your  satisfaction.  If  I  had  valued  it  at  a 
thousand  dollars,  the  result  would  have  been  the  same,  for 
you  undoubtedly  lost  it, — on  the  King." 

"But  I  am  not  willing  to  take  twenty  dollars  for  it," 
said  Mr.  Attorney.  "  I'd  sooner  go  and  get  you  the 
money;"  and  on  that  plea  he  was  about  to  escape,  when 
Cassel,  drawing  a  knife  and  taking  him  by  the  throat, 
sternly  said, — 

"Deliver,  or  die!" 

There  was  a  steel-like  ring  in  Cassel's  voice  which  hushed 
the  by-standers.  Mr.  Attorney,  looking  into  Cassel's  face 
and  discovering  the  imperial  and  relentless  courage  which 
looked  upon  him  and  held  him  by  the  throat,  cowered  and 
yielded  up  the  locket.  O'Dare,  with  well-concealed  tri 
umph,  politely  thanked  Cassel,  who  quietly  observed  that 
"  game  was  game,  and  that  he  stood  no  nonsense  from 
either  side  of  the  table." 

Mr.  Attorney  continued  to  grumble  about  the  locket, 
that  it  was  a  souvenir,  etc.  etc.,  and  was  endeavoring  to 

32 


374  TEKEL, 

borrow  the  money  wherewith  to  redeem  it.  O'Dare  be 
came  alarmed  lest  the  man  should  succeed  in  getting  the 
money,  when,  under  the  customary  "  practice,"  the  locket 
would  have  to  undergo  redemption.  To  hedge  this  new 
danger,  he  looked  over  to  Cassel  and  asked,  blandly, — 

"  Will  you  favor  me  with  your  name,  sir  ?" 

"My  name  is  Rapid,"  replied  Cassel. 

O'Dare  found  it  impossible  to  repress  a  smile  at  this 
exquisite  candor. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  be,  with  all  the  gravity  and  polish 
of  the  most  dignified  faro-table.  "This  is  a  small  matter, 
but  business  is  business,  and  as  I  expect  to  do  business 
here,  I  want  every  one  to  understand  that  I  work  strictly 
on  the  square.  Will  you,  therefore,  be  kind  enough  to 
take  this  locket  to  the  nearest  jeweler's,  ascertain  its  carat 
and  value,  and  bring  me  the  jeweler's  certificate  to  the  same  ? 
Whatever  it  is  worth,  I  will  pay  this  gentleman  the  amount, 
or  he  will  pay  me  and  retain  the  locket.  I  leave  it  to  the 
'gentlemen  present'  if  anything  can  be  more  fair." 

The  "gentlemen  present"  decided  that  nothing  could  be 
more  fair  and  lovely,  and  Cassel,  putting  the  subject  of 
dispute  down  into  the  bottom  seams  of  an  inside  vest 
pocket,  was  about  to  go  upon  his  errand,  when  Mr.  Attor 
ney  said  to  him, — 

"  I  will  go  with  you." 

"  No,"  said  0'Da"re.     "  I  object  to  that." 

"  Do  you  object?"  asked  the  man,  of  Cassel. 

"  Go  or  not,  as  you  please,"  answered  Cassel,  with  an 
optic  gesture  to  O'Dare,  which  caused  the  latter  to  with 
draw  his  objection. 

Cassel  understood  O'Dare's  game,  or,  if  not,  he  would 
make  a  game  of  his  own.  He  would  go  out,  elude  Mr. 
Attorney  or  knock  him  down,  put  the  locket  in  some  place 
of  security,  return,  report,  and  he  and  O'Dare  would  take 
the  most  favorable  opportunity  of  escaping  from  Pluto's 
dominions.  But  Cassel,  accompanied  by  Mr.  Attorney, 
had  hardly  taken  three  steps  away  from  the  table,  before 
he  was  arrested  by  a  sudden  crash  and  uproar,  which  was 
increased  by  the  fierce  yell  of, — 

"Foul,— by  God,  boys,  it's  0'Z>are/" 

Cassel  turned  instantly  about.     There,   at  quick   and 


OR    CORA    OLENCOE.  375 

desperate  defense,  stood  O'Dare,  partly  stripped  of  his  dis 
guise,  backed  by  the  wall  behind  his  table,  with  drawn 
pistols,  and  with  the  audacity  of  the  very  devil  in  his  half- 
grinning  countenance,  while  his  brilliant,  fluttering  eyes 
seemed  by  rapid  glances  to  be  holding  a  dozen  men  at  bay. 
Cassel  saw  that  a  dangerous  crisis,  however  it  had  come, 
was  at  hand.  Without  a  moment's  hesitation  he  drew  off 
and  knocked  Mr.  Attorney  as  cold  as  a  wedge.  Quickly 
throwing  aside  his  coat,  to  be  unencumbered,  he  sprang 
over  the  faro-table  and  took  his  position  shoulder  to  shoul 
der  with  O'Dare,  at  the  same  time  presenting  in  either 
hand  a  cocked  revolver,  and  saying  to  the  crowd, — 

"  Come  on,  if  you  like  the  look  of  it !" 

One  half  of  the  crowd  prudently  or  timidly  left  the  room  ; 
but  a  dozen  or  more  ferocious-looking  fellows,  inverted 
friends  of  O'Dare,  loudly  swore  that  he  should  never  leave 
the  room  alive — neither  his  accomplice.  They  formed  a 
frowning  and  threatening  semicircle,  but,  for  the  moment, 
stood  with  drawn  weapons  at  a  respectful  distance,  seem 
ingly  spell-bound  by  the  unflinching  aspect  of  the  two 
dauntless-looking  men  who  were  braced  to  defend  them 
selves  and  each  other  to  the  last  gasp. 

While  O'Dare  and  Cassel  stood  together,  with  their  eyes 
and  pistols  leveled  at  the  tierce  and  hungry  looking  despera 
does  about  them,  they  carried  on  the  following  whispered 
conversation : 

"  What  do  you  propose,  O'Dare  ?" 

"  To  surrender  myself  on  condition  that  you  shall  go 
free." 

"  I  am  no  deserter,  O'Dare." 

"  But  you  have  the  locket.  When  you  are  free,  I'll  beat 
them,  somehow." 

"  No.     We'll  beat  them  together." 

"How?" 

"  I'm  going  to  shoot  out  the  light.  We  can  then  strike 
for  the  street." 

"Rapid,  if  you  miss  we  are  gone." 

"But  I  won't  miss;  and  I  see  no  other  escape." 

"This  is  no  place  for  us  to  disagree,"  said  O'Dare, 
drolly.  "  Is  there  but  one  pipe  ?" 

"  Only  one." 


376  TEKEL, 

"  Then  we'll  both  shoot  together,  to  make  certain  of  it, 
and  at  one,  two,  three." 

"  You  understand,  O'Dare,  that  when  we  shoot  we  will 
drop  to  the  floor  and  secure  our  pistols.  The  table  will 
protect  us  a  moment.  You  will  give  me  your  left  hand, 
and  with  our  brass  knuckles  we'll  fight  through  the  confu 
sion  until  we  reach  the  street  " 

During  this  rapid  whispering,  the  black-browed  semi 
circle  was  beginning  to  move  for  attack. 

"  Count,"  said  Cassel. 

"  One, — two, — three,"  said  O'Dare,  and  in  a  twinkling 
the  chandelier  fell  with  a  crash,  and  the  room  was  in  total 
darkness.  A  dozen  pistol-shots  succeeded,  the  ruffians 
roared  and  raved,  and  the  gas  poured  in,  filling  the  room 
with  stench. 

"  Strike  a  light!"  cried  some  one. 

"  Never!"  shouted  O'Dare,  in  an  assumed  voice,  "you'll 
fire  the  gas  and  scorch  our  breath." 

"  Open  the  doors  !" 

"  Hang  on  to  O'Dare — whoever  has  him,"  was  heard, 
in  deep,  fierce  tones. 

"  Close  in  on  them!"  shouted  another. 

Meantime  Cassel  and  O'Dare,  with  locked  hands,  burst 
through  the  deadly  cordon,  and  succeeded  in  finding  a 
door,  leading  they  knew  not  where.  It  was  locked.  They 
kicked  it  open,  and  came  upon  rising  steps.  Ascending, 
they  came  to  another  door.  It  yielded  to  the  turning  of 
the  knob.  They  found  themselves  in  the  dining-room 
of  the  establishment.  The  whole  house  was  now  in  an 
uproar,  and  roughs  were  collecting  from  adjacent  fast 
nesses.  Opening  another  door,  Cassel  and  O'Dare  dis 
covered  that  they  were  upon  the  rear  threshold  of  the 
saloon.  They  were  instantly  recognized,  and  a  general, 
tough  melee  ensued. 

"  Use  your  knuckles,  Rapid,  and  let's  keep  together," 
hastily  said  O'Dare,  "  If  it  gets  too  fierce,  blow  them  to 
hell  with  your  pistols  !" 

"  O'Dare,  you're  excited,"  said  Cassel,  knocking  a 
fellow  heels  over  head  with  a  vigorous,  scientific  stroke. 

"I'm  alive,"  answered  O'Dare,  as  he  kicked  one  fellow 
in  the  groin,  and  sent  another  one  buttocks  over  stomach 
into  a  far  corner  of  the  saloon. 


OR   CORA   GLENCOE.  3f7 

The  two  gallant  and  athletic  men  fought  their  way  out, 
receiving,  en  passant,  some  stunning  blows  themselves. 
Escaping  into  the  street,  they  soon  gained  a  place  of 
safety.  O'Dare  was  without  a  hat,  and  Cassel,  having 
thrown  off  his  coat  at  the  beginning,  was  both  coatless 
and  hatless. 

"  You  call  that  doing  things  quietly,  do  you,  O'Dare  ?" 
asked  Cassel,  with  provokingly  gay  criticism. 

"  But  for  a  damned  accident  it  would  all  have  been  smooth 
and  quiet  enough,"  said  O'Dare. 

"  What  changed  the  scene  so  suddenly  just  as  I  was 
about  to  leave  ?" 

"  A  drunken  fellow  stumbled  against  me.  Clutching 
at  me  for  a  support  or  a  break-fall,  he  pulled  off  my  head 
gear  and  exposed  me,  and  but  for  you,  you  bold,  stanch 
fellow,  I  would  have  been  in  an  almost  inextricable  fix. 
Rapid,  you  are  the  most  complete  man  that  I  ever  saw, 
let  him  come  from  Dan,  or  Beersheba,  or  from  betwixt 
the  two ;  and  I  do  not  judge  you  simply  by  the  operations 
of  to-night,  either.  I've  studied  you  before,  while  you 
were  asleep — or  should  have  been,  you  young  tiger-cat." 

Catching  up  a  cab,  they  were  soon  at  O'Dare's  office, 
and  in  the  best  of  humors.  O'Dare  brought  out  some 
wine  and  cigars.  Lifting  a  glass,  the  detective  offered  a 
toast, — 

"Success — the  measure  of  genius." 

Cassel  responded,  significantly  pointing  to  O'Dare's 
face, — 

"  A  skinned  cheek — the  unmistakable  trade-mark  of 
desperate  enterprises." 

"  You  came  cleaner  off  than  I  did.  Cassel,"  said  O'Dare, 
rubbing  his  bruised  cheek.  "  But  here ;  although  I  lost 
my  faro  outfit,  I  beat  those  fellows  out  of  several  hun 
dred  dollars.  Shall  I  divide  with  you  ?" 

•'  Give  me  fifty  of  it,  O'Dare.  I  know  a  woman  who 
needs  it  badly — the  invalid  mother  of  a  little  newsboy 
who  brings  me  my  papers." 

"  Here,  Cassel,  let  it  be  a  hundred  ;  I  will  credit  my 
account  of  Mundus  vs.  Ccelum  with  fifty  dollars'  worth  of 
disinterested  charity.  Bring  me  a  receipt  from  the 

32* 


378  TEKEL, 

woman,"  said  O'Dare,  with  facetious  absurdity,  "  for  I 
preserve  all  such  vouchers  for  the  Last  Settlement  when 
the  celestial  book-keeper  shall  strike  a  balance  throughout 
the  TJ Diverse.  I  have  some  pretty  good  6gures  to  show 
on  that  day." 

Cassel  resumed  his  own  clothes,  gave  O'Dare  the 
locket,  and  went  home.  He  did  not  sleep  well  that  night, 
for  an  active  and  annoying  idea  intruded  upon  his  mind, 
and  would  neither  be  banished  nor  browbeaten.  Early 
the  next  morning  he  repaired  to  the  office  of  the  detective. 

"O'Dare,"  asked  he,  "has  it  occurred  to  you  during 
the  night  just  passed,  that,  if  a  sudden  requisition  was 
made  upon  the  city  of  New  York  for  its  two  most  egre 
gious  fools,  the  committee  of  selection  might,  without  use 
less  hesitation,  spot  Hector  O'Dare  and  Cassel  Rapid  ?" 

"  Don't  put  me  first,  if  you  please,"  answered  O'Dare. 
"But  what's  the  trouble?" 

"  How  is  this  locket,  now  that  we  have  it,  going  to  do 
us  or  anybody  else  any  good  ?" 

'•  Why  not  ?     It  will  prove  up  Miss  Huron." 

"But  how?" 

"  This  is  the  copy,  mind  you,  and  the  copy  was  given 
to  Oswald  Huron's  child,  and  was  about  the  neck  of  it 
when  the  little  corpse  was  brought  to  Philadelphia." 

"  But  how  are  you  to  determine,  legally,  that  this  is  the 
copy,  to  say  nothing  of  to  whom  it  was  given  ?" 

"  I  omitted  to  tell  you,"  said  O'Dare,  "  for  the  sake  of 
brevity,  that  the  daguerrean,  who  took  the  original,  and 
from  it  the  copy,  is  still  operating.  On  his  old  books  are 
charged  to  Neville  Huron  an  original  and  a  copy,  a  few 
days  intervening  between  the  entries  The  dauguerrean 
is  willing  to  swear  that  subsequent  to  those  dates  he 
never  has  taken  similar  pictures  for  Neville  Huron." 

"  He  must  have  a  deuced  good  memory  to  swear  by," 
said  Cassel. 

"  No ;  his  memory  has  a  backer ;  for,  a  day  or  so  after 
he  had  taken  these  pictures,  his  books  show  that  he  quit 
operating  on  daguerrotypes,  and  confined  himself  to  the 
more  recent  styles  of  photography." 

"  He  might  have  copied  one,  nevertheless." 

"  He  is  willing  to  swear  that  he  did  not.     But  admit 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  379 

that  he  might  have  done  so,  this  battered  locket  and  bent 
plate  will  prove  themselves." 

"  That  will  do,  so  far  as  the  daguerrean,  the  locket,  and 
the  miniature  are  concerned ;  but  it  won't  yet  prove  to  a 
court  that  this  is  the  copy." 

"We  can  prove  that  the  copy  was  given  to  Oswald 
Huron's  child,  and  that  the  child  habitually  wore  it.  Do 
you  grant  that  ?" 

"Yes." 

"  We  can  prove  that  this  identical  locket  and  miniature 
was  about  the  neck  of  the  dead  infant.  Do  you  grant 
that?" 

"Yes." 

"  We  can  prove  by  Mr.  Neville  Huron's  invariable 
custom  of  parting  his  hair  on  the  left  side,  that  this  is  a 
copy.  Do  you  grant  that  V 

"No." 

"The  devil  you  don't!" 

"No,  I  don't.  If  it  was  a  blind  eye,  I  would  admit 
the  proof.  Or  if  his  hair  was  friable,  like  glass,  and  he 
had  been  born  with  it  parted  on  the  left  side,  I  would 
admit  the  proof.  But  as  it  was,  and  is,  flexible,  how  can 
you  establish  the  fact  that  it  lay  this  way  or  that,  on  any 
particular  occasion  ?  Nobody  but  himself,  an  excluded 
witness  in  this  case,  could  swear  to  it.  His  own  wife 
could  not  swear  to  it.  Cora  Glencoe's  hopes  are  indeed 
vanished  into  invisible,  thin  air,  if  they  are  to  hang  for 
existence  upon  the  scalp-locks  of  Neville  Huron." 

"  Ph-e-w  !"  whistled  O'Dare,  like  a  man  who  had  been 
suddenly  halted — nonplused. — countermarched. 

"  I  knew  a  man  once,"  said  Cassel,  "  who  sat  down,  and, 
as  he  supposed,  made  a  careful  estimate.  Upon  that  esti 
mate  he  embarked  in  business,  and  conducted  it  flourish 
ingly  for  twelve  months.  He  was  to  sell  so  many  goods 
at  such  a  profit,  and  his  aggregate  expenses  were  to  be  so 
much,  and  his  yearly  gain  was  to  be  the  respectable  balance 
between  debit  and  credit.  He  oversold  his  calculation, 
and  underwent  his  estimated  expenses,  but  at  the  end  of 
the  year  he  found  himself  bankrupt.  He  went  and  looked 
over  his  old  estimate.  He  had  omitted  to  carry  the  figure 
1,  and  it  made  a  difference  of  ten  thousand  dollars  against 


380  TEKEL, 

him.     O'Dare,  I  think  that  .in  this  matter  you  have  omitted 
to  carry  the  figure  1." 

"  Cassel,"  said  O'Dare,  with  the  assured  gravity  of  Me 
thuselah,  "  a  cunning  fox  always  has  two  entrances  or 
exits  to  his  burrow.  To  all  that  you  have  said,  or  may 
say,  I  emphatically  answer — buttons  /" 

"O'Dare,"  replied  Cassel,  with  some  impatience,  "don't 
be  a  downright  fool." 

O'Dare  got  up,  unlocked  a  case,  took  out  the  locket,  also  a 
microscope,  and  with  apparently  inimitable  nonsense,  said, — 

"  Cassel,  I  repeat,  and  insist  that  it  is — buttons  " 

"  Well  unbutton  the  thing  and  spread  it  out,  that  I  may 
have  a  look  at  it." 

O'Dare  shook  out  the  plate  on  which  was  copied  in 
miniature  the  bust  of  Neville  Huron,  and  placed  it  under 
the  microscope. 

"  Here,  said  he,  "  are  coat  buttons  on  one  side,  only,  of 
a  single-breasted  coat.  Here  are  vest  buttons,  on  one  side, 
only,  of  a  single-brested  high-pressure  vest.  An  open  plait 
in  the  shirt-bosom  shows  a  peeping  button  similarly  situ 
ated.  Any  tailor  will  tell  you,  and  swear  to  it,  that  in  the 
make-up  of  single-breasted  clothes  the  single  row  of  but 
tons  is  always  put  on  the  right-hand  side  of  a  garment.  So 
you  see  that  'buttons  '  gives  me  the  decayed  timber,  the 
rotten  log,  the  gopher-wood,  upon  this  question  of  copy 
identity.  Look  at  your  own  clothes,  and  look  at  mine,  and 
then  take  a  microscopic  view  of  the  miniature,  and  retract 
your  insinuation  that  I  am  a  downright  fool." 

Cassel  looked,  and  saw  that  it  was  so. 

"  How  did  you  ever  think  of  such  proof,  O'Dare  ?" 

"  To  tell  the  truth,  I  only  thought  of  the  buttons  after  I 
had  gone  to  bed  last  night.  My  difficulty  was  the  same  as 
yours.  I  couldn't  sleep.  I  beat  about  for  a  counter-irri 
tant,  and  found  it.  It  was  buttons,  only  buttons.  They 
are  better  proof  than  any  head  of  hair,  though  it  be  as 
fine  a  head  as  Cassel  Rapid  tosses." 

"You  are  quite  certain  now,  are  you,"  asked  Cassel, 
"  that  you  have  a  faultless  case  of  it,  and  that  the  legal 
mind,  after  a  thorough  scrutiny,  will  feel  absolutely  con 
vinced  that  Neville  Huron  is  the  father  of  Cora  ?" 

"  No,"  positively  replied  O'Dare. 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  381 

• 

"  What !  I  thought  the  locket  was  to  be  the  keystone  to 
your  arch  ?" 

"  It  is  a  difficult  thing,"  said  O'Dare,  "to  prove,  to  an 
absolute  certainty,  who  is  the  father  of  anybody's  children  ; 
but  you  can  risk  your  happiness  on  the  chance  that  Mrs. 
Neville  Huron  is  Cora's  mother." 

"  O'Dare,  you  are  merely  a  two-legged  absurdity, — a 
fork-ed  humbug." 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  O'Dare,  with  great  impu 
dence  ;  "  I  had  forgotten  that  in  this  Play  of  the  '  Huron 
War  '  you  are  acting  in  the  character  of  the  Lover." 

"  If  you  were  not  such  a  useful  leash-hound,  I'd  scalp 
you,  O'Dare." 

"  See  how  he  blushes  !  As  red  almost  as  a  scalping  In 
dian.  You  need  not  be  ashamed  of  loving  Cora,  for  I  tell 
you,  Cassel,  she  outshines  the  most  of  girls  as  the  moon 
outshimmers  the  stars  at  night ;  and  I  am  glad  to  know 
of  you  that  your  cheek  is  accessible  to  the  pink  spray  of  a 
modest  youth's  sweet  shame." 

"O'Dare,"  said  Cassel,  "you  are  so  very  awkward." 

"  No,  I  am  as  nimble  and  as  softly-moving  as  a  cream- 
seeking  tabby-cat.  Go  you  home  now,  put  yourself  on 
your  mettle,  and  make  your  propositions.  Get  ahead  of 
Harry  Gray  and  all  other  sickish  swains ;  close  in  as 
rapidly  as  Rapid  may  be,  and  clinch  your  happiness.  I 
would  myself  bear  Cora  the  news  of  her  approaching 
emancipation,  but  I  will  not  rob  you  of  the  prestige  which 
good  tidings  always  carry  with  the  bearer.  Tell  Coy  all 
about  it,  Cassel,  and  then  drop  like  a  shot  hog  down  upon 
your  knee-pans  and  blubber  away  at  her.  I  have  already 
telegraphed  to  Neville  Huron." 

"  O'Dare,  you  are  one  of  the  seven  Plagues ;  you  are 
also  the  most  audacious  fellow  in  all  the  catalogue  of 
brazen  men.  I  was  struck  with  the  latter  fact  last  night, 
when  I  turned  about  and  saw  you  standing  like  a  veritable 
and  grinning  Satan,  surrounded  by  howling  and  revolted 
devils.  But  don't  you  feel  a  little  sore  from  some  of  those 
heavy  blows  we  received  ?" 

"I  do  feel  somewhat  battered.  I  saw  stars  several 
times  last  night.  But  Mr.  Attorney  must  have  had  just 
time  enough  to  imagine  that  he  had  been  struck  by  light- 


382  TFKEL, 

• 

ning  when  you  hit  him.  That  was  the  most  sudden,  cap 
sizing,  and  nicky  thing  of  the  night.  But  go,  Cassel ; 
Coy  is  waiting  for  you." 

"  Why  do  you  call  her  Coy  ?" 

"  That  was  the  pet  name  for  her  when  she  was  a  child." 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

WHEN  Cassel  went  home  he  found  that  Cora  was  actu 
ally  waiting  for  him.  He  encountered  her  in  the  front 
parlor.  She  was  dressed  in  pure  white — in  gala  costume 
— in  swiss,  and  hat,  and  flowers,  and  feathers,  with  peep 
ing  bosom  and  bare  round  arms.  She  looked  like  a  blush 
ing,  sweet  young  Grace,  hugged  about  by  the  soft  and 
feathery  snow.  Cassel  had  never  seen  her  so  surpassingly 
lovely  and  ravishing,  and  he  felt  the  wildfire  kindling  in 
his  blood.  As  he  looked  upon  her  the  thought  entered  his 
head  that  if  Cora  should  ever  turn  against  him,  then  would 
the  whole  world  drop  out  of  existence.  . 

"  Mr.  Rapid,  I  have  been  searching  for  you.  Where 
have  you  been  so  early?" 

"  Out  into  the  city.     What  is  your  pleasure  ?" 

"  I  have  a  favor  to  ask  of  you,"  said  Cora,  modestly. 

"  Not  the  half,  but  the  whole,  of  my  kingdom  is  subject 
to  your  requisitions.  I  give  you  carte  blanche." 

41 1  do  not  intend  that  you  shall  be  so  extravagant," 
replied  Cora.  "  The  favor  which  I  am  encouraged  to  ask 
is  very  simple,  though,  if  granted,  will  be  highly  valued." 

On  that  day  there  was  to  be  a  procession  of  school-girls, 
pupils  of  Miss  Lightner,  the  young  mistress  heretofore 
mentioned.  Miss  Lightner  had  the  intellectual  charge  and, 
to-day,  the  processional  conduct  of  these  school-children. 
They  were  to  march  through  certain  pleasant  streets,  take 
an  excursion  train,  and  go  out  to  a  rural  picnic,  where  the 
air  was  free  and  the  trees  were  full  of  birds,  whose  June 
throats  sent  twittering  melody  upon  the  soft  summer  wind. 
Miss  Lightner  had  requested  Cora  to  accompany  and 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  383 

assist  her.  Cora  had  agreed  to  do  so,  and  also  to  ask 
Cassel  Rapid  to  act  as  Marshal  of  the  Day.  Cassel 
promptly  consented.  Nothing  was  more  delightful  to 
him  than  to  grant  a  request  from  Cora;  and  to  be  out 
an  entire  day  with  a  lot  of  little  virgins,  and  with  Cora 
for  the  dearest  of  them  all,  promised  to  be  very  pleasant 
to  him. 

."You  are  to  go  on  horseback, — that  is,  through  the 
streets,"  said  Cora,  persuasively, — "  and  you  are  to  wear 
a  sash." 

"  That  doesn't  disconcert  me  in  the  least.  I  think  I'll 
go  all  the  way  on  horseback." 

"  But  how  will  you  keep  up  with  the  cars  ?" 

"  Easily  enough.  There  is  a  fine  road  running  along  by 
the  track  for  some  miles,  and  a  good  racker  or  trotter  can 
beat  the  common  time  of  a  locomotive,  in  a  short  heat.  At 
all  events  it  will  be  a  diversion  to  the  school-children  to 
see  me  try  it." 

"  We  shall  laugh  at  you  if  you  come  up  lagging  " 

"  Laugh  and  grow  fat,"  said  Cassel.  Not  that  he 
thought  Cora  in  need  of  a  single  ounce  of  flesh ;  she  was 
just  right, — just  upon  the  verge  of  voluptuousness,  five  feet 
four  inches  tall,  a  one-hundred-and-twenty-four-pounder, 
and  every  pound  symmetrically  bestowed,  if  the  word  of 
madame,  her  dress-maker,  was  entitled  to  belief. 

Cora  retired  and  completed  her  gala  array.  Cassel 
rigged  himself,  and  appeared  in  front  of  the  Boyd  mansion 
mounted  upon  the  proud  stallion  with  the  black  mane  and 
black  feet.  Linda  and  Cora  were  out  on  the  balcony. 
Cassel  saucily  threw  a  kiss  at  them.  Linda  responded 
with  a  blushing  rose  which  she  dropped  down  to  him. 

"  Little  sister,"  said  Cassel,  "  please  go  into  my  room 
and  bring  me  my  lasso.  It  is  hanging  in  the  rack,  on  the 
left." 

Linda  disappeared,  with  the  backward  glance  of  an 
affectionate,  fond  sister.  How  radically  different  she  now 
felt  herself  to  be,  compared  to  the  green  and  outrageous 
little  bumpkin  which  she  was  when  Cassel  first  took  charge 
of  her  steps  and  education  ! 

While  Linda  was  absent,  Cassel  said  to  Cora, — 

"I'll   show   you   something  of  my    cow-boy   training 


384  TEKEL, 

to-day,  if  we  should  happen  upon  a  loose  animal  in  the 
vicinity  of  the  picnic.  Did  you  ever  see  the  lasso  fly  ?" 

"  I  have  seen  it  wielded,  once,  but  have  never  seen  it 
cast,"  answered  Cora,  with  a  sensation  of  horror  at  her 
heart,  for  she  never  could  forget  the  pursurer  and  pursued, 
down  on  the  Larboard  Strand. 

Linda  came  back  with  the  lasso. 

"  Heave  it  down,"  said  Cassel. 

She  threw  it,  and  catching  it,  he  fastened  one  end  to 
the  pommel  of  his  saddle,  and  hung  the  coil  in  a  ring 
hook  at  the  side.  He  then  rode  away  to  the  rendezvous, 
and  soon,  to  the  stirring  clap-trap  of  a  kettle-drum  and 
brass  band,  he  led  the  gay  and  flowery  procession  past  the 
Boyd  mansion,  where  Cora  came  down  and  joined  with 
Miss  Lightner.  The  school-girls  were  delighted  with  the 
knightly  pomp  of  their  handsome  young  marshal,  and 
Cassel  exerted  himself  to  give  eclat  and  spirit  to  the  en 
terprise. 

Taking  the  cars,  the  excursionists  passed  slowly  out 
of  the  city  into  the  country,  where  the  engineer  spurred 
up  his  iron  steed  and  the  pale  horse  had  to  buckle  down 
to  work.  Away  they  went,  the  horse  of  iron  and  the 
horse  of  flesh  contending  for  the  decisive  neck.  A  cut 
would  ever  and  anon  flash  between  them,  but  again  they 
would  emerge,  neck  and  neck  together.  The  engineer 
looked  with  admiration  upon  the  emulous  and  splendid 
animal,  whose  proud  crest  was  forward,  and  whose  busy 
feet  came  down  as  regular  and  rapid  as  the  ticking  of  a 
Swiss  watch.  The  school-girls  waved  their  handkerchiefs, 
and  cheered  with  enthusiasm.  Cassel  threw  kisses  at 
them,  to  which  they  gayly  responded.  He  ventured  to 
throw  a  kiss  at  Cora.  With  instant  propriety  she  sent 
him  back  a  flying  air-kiss — for  was  she  not  a  pupil,  and 
should  she  distinguish  herself  from  the  others  ?  He  was 
even  bold  enough  to  assault  Miss  Lightner,  but  she  was  not 
competent  to  notice  it  otherwise  than  by  a  graceful  wave 
of  the  hand,  and  a  thought  of  "  what  a  fine  young  noble 
he  is!" 

The  excursion  proved  to  be  delightful  beyond  the  ambi 
tious  pitch  of  even  Miss  Lightner.  The  uncaged  school 
girls  capered  with  lithe  limbs  over  the  green  pasture,  and 
blushed  with  exercise  and  pleasure. 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  385 

Cora  and  Cassel  were  sitting  to  themselves,  in  the 
wavy  shade  of  a  low  spreading  tree  whose  branches 
yielded  to  the  soft  force  of  a  gentle  though  fickle  wind. 
Cassel  felt  that  compensating  Time  had  shivered  the  tena 
cious  seal  which  circumstances  had  set  upon  his  heart, 
and  that  he  could  now  enter  upon  whilom  forbidden 
things.  He  indulged  in  beautiful  pastorals,  which  he  was 
very  capable  of  doing,  and  swept  with  nimble  thought 
and  imagination  through  all  the  known  fields  of  real  and 
unreal  enchantment. 

"  Mr.  Rapid,"  said  Cora,  "  what  teaches  you  to  talk  so 
well  ?" 

"To  talk  well,"  answered  Cassel,  "is  simply  to  tell  the 
truth.  If  a  person  can  talk  at  all,  it  must  be  here,  where 
everything  is  so  pure,  and  fair,  and  suggestive." 

"And  so  free,"  rejoined  Cora.  "It  has  been  a  long 
time  to  me  since  I  have  been  out  in  the  forest  and  among 
the  birds.  I  feel  now  like  a  hind  let  loose.  I  imagine 
that  the  deepest  secret  could  not  live  here,  but  would 
needs  peep  out  to  enjoy  a  little  freedom,  and  thereby  die 
of  discovery." 

"  What  you  say  is  so  aptly  true,"  replied  Cassel  ;  "for 
under  the  influence  and  pervasions  of  this  spot,  which  to 
me  is  to  be  the  sweetest  or  bitterest  spot  on  earth,  I  can 
no  longer  fetter  the  clamoring  secret  that  I  love  you." 

Sudden  though  it  was,  Cora  did  not  start,  seem  over 
come,  or  exhibit  the  least  surprise.  The  announcement 
had  been  made  so  gently  and  so  naturally,  and  was  so 
entirely  divested  of  the  customary  ill-conceived  accom 
paniments,  that  it  fell  upon  her  and  melted  in,  like  a  snow- 
flake  falling  upon  a  warm  rock.  Cora  blushed  and  pouted, 
and  looked  at  Cassel  with  an  infinitely  sweet  and  relenting 
reproach.  He  was  confident  that  there  was  never  such  a 
ravissante  little  maid  in  the  wide  world,  as  she  dared  hia 
feasting,  inquiring  eyes,  with  her  blush,  and  pout,  and 
sweet  reproach. 

"Are  you  surprised?"  asked  Cassel. 

"No — yes." 

"A  definite  answer — but  are  ycu  angry r" 

"No." 

33 


386  TEKEL, 

"  Then  what  means  that  little  beacon-light  of  reproach 
which  warns  me  to  beware  ?" 

"  To  be  candid,  Mr.  Rapid,  I  am  disappointed  in  you." 

"  Why,  Cora  ?     Is  it  a  fault  to  love  you  ?" 

"  Yes  or  no,  as  you  like.  But  to  dismiss  the  subject  as 
lightly  as  you  have  introduced  it,  I  can  refer  you  to  no 
'parent,'  should  I  feel  ever  so  slight  a  disposition  to  make 
such  a  reference." 

"  There,  Cora,  is  your  mistake.  I  have  transgressed 
neither  the  law  of  etiquette  nor  delicacy.  The  hour  has 
come,  in  which  I  may  speak  and  you  may  respond.  Do 
not  be  excited  now,  and  I  will  read  you  the  latest  pages 
of  your  history." 

But  Cora  was  excited,  and  she  listened  with  exquisite 
sensibility  and  interest  to  Cassel  while  he  detailed  the 
history  of  O'Dare's  last  night's  operations,  and  then  made 
her  understand  the  sure  results  which  would  follow.  He 
then  pressed  Cora  for  an  answer  to  his  special  plea. 

"  But  why  are  you  in  such  hot  haste  about  it?" 

"  Haste  !  My  most  exemplary  patience  has  snapped  its 
cords.  And  then,"  said  Cassel,  telling  a  fruitful  fib,  "  I 
am  afraid  of  Harry  Gray." 

"  Pshaw!"  protested  Cora,  who,  in  her  eagerness  on  the 
one  hand,  betrayed  herself  ou  the  other. 

"  You  do  love  me,  don't  you,  Cora?"  said  Cassel,  with 
sweet  and  gentle  urging. 

"Yes — I — do,  if  nothing  else  will  satisfy  you." 

"  Nothing  else  in  this  world  will.  How  long  have  you 
loved  me,  you  little  dove  ?" 

"  Only  since  your  avowal — a  few  moments  " 

"Now,  Cora,"  saucily  and  joyously  objected  Cassel. 

"Not  longer,  then,  than  you  have  loved  me,  I  can  tell 
you." 

"  Are  you  sure  ?" 

"  Yes, — unless  you  are  the  most  deceitful  fellow  in  the 
world." 

"  I  confess  that  I  have  been  very  deceitful  with  you, 
you  rose-lipped  darling ;  for  never  by  word  or  look  have 
I  intimated  to  you  the  thousandth  part  of  my  affection. 
Not  until  I  have  the  opportunity  fondly  to  show  it  will 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  38T 

you  be  able  to  conceive  how  deathly  dear  you  are  and 
ever  shall  be  to  me." 

"  Why  so  very  dear  ?"  asked  Cora,  thrilled  by  the  deep 
tenderness  of  his  voice. 

"  Because  you  are  pure  as  mountain  snow,  warm 
hearted  as  love,  and  stanch  as  steel.  I  could  load  the 
air  with  reasons.  And,  as  I  once  told  you,  I  am  the 
Logan  of  my  house,  having  no  living  thing,  but  Cora,  to 
love.  You  are  dearer  to  me  than  vengeance  to  the  venge 
ful." 

"  Vengeance !  Why  do  you  mar  the  moment  with  that 
painful,  crimson  word  ?" 

"  Because  it  suits  my  comparison,  being  priceless  in  the 
estimation  of  men." 

"I  did  not  know  it." 

"  I  will  not  teach  you  of  it.  Whether  it  comes  from 
Above  or  Below  I  know  not ;  but  it  has  been,  and  is,  in 
the  heart  of  immemorial  Man,  and  the  blood  of  Christ  has 
failed  to  wash  it  out.  But  come  away  from  it,"  said 
Cassel,  humorously,  "  and  let  us  be  foolish  as  all  fresh 
lovers  are." 

"  Fll  play  the  fool  with  no  one,  by  request,"  said  Cora, 
with  mock  sobriety  and  unwillingness,  while  her  eyes  rested 
with  infinite  tenderness  on  her  lover. 

Cora,  who  was  as  fiery  as  she  was  firm,  had  thought  that 
she  loved  Cassel  before  ;  but  now  that  her  heart  was  un 
locked,  she  felt  in  her  roused  bosom  the  headlong  gush  of 
all  her  soul,  spangling  through  her  veins,  and  thickening 
in  her  throat.  At  this  moment  she  could  have  wound  her 
arms  about  herlover's  neck  and  died  upon  a  kiss.  Out  of 
the  gloom  of  Cliff  Hall  had  she  been  plucked,  and  trans 
ported  into  a  sphere  of  active  life,  and  light,  and  happi 
ness,  and  love,  like  a  sweet  star,  hitherto  without  form  and 
void,  sent  singing  into  the  field  azure  of  a  summer  even 
ing  sky.  And  now  her  lover  was  impatient  to  garland  her 
way  with  flowers,  and  make  the  air  about  her  hazy  with 
the  gossamers  of  love.  How  bright  the  future  seemed  to 
her,  intrinsically  bright,  but  more  brilliant  still,  when  com 
pared  with  the  past  1  She  felt  now  that  wickedness,  and 
sorrow,  and  anguish,  and  ills,  had  fled  the  world,  and  that 
only 'rainbows  spanned  the  heavens,  and  only  music  swept 


388  TEKEL, 

the  air ;  that  life  was  not  indeed  a  gloomy  vale,  nor  its 
charms  but  lurid  meteors,  nor  man  but  evil,  nor  gold  but 
dross.  The  primrose  chaplet  about  the  giddy  head  was 
now  all  appropriate  ;  the  flowery  circle  of  dancing  school 
girls  was  all  appropriate ;  the  trained  melody  of  chords 
and  pipes  was  all  appropriate  ;  the  music  gushing  from 
the  free  bird's  throat,  as  it  swung  in  the  green  bough,  was 
all  appropriate  ;  strike  the  cymbal  I  let  God  be  praised,  and 
man  rejoice,  for  O  this  is  a  happy,  happy  world!  So  felt 
Cora  Glencoe  with  her  lover  beside  her.  In  less  than 
an  hour  she  would  feel  as  one  dead  and  yet  conscious  to 
suffer.  - 

Cassel  found  no  occasion  or  opportunity  for  displaying 
his  skill  as  an  expert  lazador,  except  that  he  had  already 
cast  the  invisible  loop  of  love  over  the  white  neck  of  the 
coyest  little  antelope  of  a  girl,  and  drawn  her  to  him  with 
a  charmed  cord  and  so  gently,  that  she  was  soon  subdued, 
and  happy,  and  confident  at  his  side, — ready  to  skip  with 
him  over  the  lawns,  or  bask  with  him  by  the  waterfalls, 
and  in  the  pleasant  places.  Cora  and  Cassel,  giving  sigh 
for  sigh  and  pledge  for  pledge,  plighted  themselves  for 
ever. 

"I  am  thine,  and  thou  art  mine, 
Body  and  soul  forever." 

Miss  Lightner  came  and  requested  the  lovers  to  lend 
their  voices  to  the  singing  of  an  anthem  which  was  to 
close  the  rustic  pleasures  of  the  day. 

"Praise  Him, — praise  Him, 
Ye  shouting  nations  praise  Him." 

The  school-girls,  with  their  conductors,  then  repaired  to 
the  railroad,  to  be  in  readiness.  Cassel  put  his  ear  to  a 
rail  and  notified  the  company  that  the  cars  were  coming. 
Here  was  an  opportunity  for  Miss  Lightner  to  give  her 
pupils  a  practical  lesson  in  the  philosophy  of  sound,  and  in 
a  few  moments  every  pupil  had  her  ear  upon  a  rail.  Cassel, 
a  rascal,  stood  off  and  compared  their  ankles. 

"Are  you  going  to  race  with  us  again  ?"  asked  Miss 
Lightner,  pleasantly. 

"No,"  replied  Cassel.  "I  must  be  kind  to  my  horse, 
for  he  has  been  very  kind  to  me..  He  is  now  eight  years 


OR    CORA    GLENCOE.  389 

old,  and  since  I  first  got  upon  his  back  and  subdued  him, 
he  has  never  failed  me  a  single  step.  The  only  thing  about 
him  which  I  dislike,  and  at  the  same  time  like,  is,  that  he 
is  too  fierce  ;  he  will  let  nobody  groom  him  but  me.  Our 
stableman  has  to  lower  his  food  to  him  from  the  loft,  and 
unless  I  curry  him  myself  he  gets  no  currying  at  all.  He 
will  admit  of  no  hair-dresser  or  valet  but  me.  But  I  love 
to  fondle  him,  he  is'so  affectionate  and  grateful.  Would 
you  like  to  see  him  and  me  in  a  play  ?" 

"  I  would  indeed." 

Cassel  threw  the  reins  over  the  pommel  of  the  saddle, 
and  ran  out  upon  the  lawn.  The  horse  rushed  after  him, 
neighing,  and  rearing,  and  snorting,  and  wheeling  about 
him.  Lightly  as  a  young  panther,  Cassel,  disdaining  the 
stirrup,  sprang  into  the  saddle  and  stretched  away.  Back 
again  he  came  with  furious  speed,  and,  when  just  abreast 
of  Miss  Lightner,  he  swooped  from  his  saddle,  plucked  a 
white  wild-flower  from  the  ground,  recovered  himself,  and 
instantly  brought  the  proud  horse  upon  his  haunches  with 
his  forelegs  buried  to  the  knees  almost  in  the  spongy  soil. 
As  Cassel  sat  upon  his  quivering  wild-eyed  steed,  his 
cheeks  rosy  with  the  violence  of  his  feat,  and  holding  up 
the  little  bloom  which  he  had  snatched  from  the  sward, 
Miss  Lightner,  whose  mind  was  classic  and  artistic,  thrilled 
with  the  consciousness  that  she  had  not  dreamed  of  a  life- 
picture  so  vivid  and  heroic.  The  school-girls  were  actually 
frightened,  until  they  saw  that  Cassel  was  safe  and  un 
hurt.  Into  Cora's  heart  came  a  pang.  Whence  it  came 
she  could  not  divine,  unless  from  the  memory  of  the  deed 
down  on  the  Larboard  Strand,  which  Cassel's  swift  action 
had  recalled. 

"  Mr.  Rapid,"  said  Miss  Lightner,  "  you  have  electrified 
me.  I  have  read  of  such  deft  and  brilliant  feats,  but  put 
them  down  as  merely  fanciful.  I  see  plainly  that  I  have 
many  things  to  learn.  But  permit  me  now  to  thank  you 
thoroughly  for  the  favor  you  have  done  us  all,  and  me  espe 
cially,  by  coming  with  us  and  making  our  little  excursion 
so  delightful  a  success." 

"  Miss  Lightner,"  replied  Cassel,  with  a  covert  glance 
at  Cora,  "  I  can  very  well  afford  to  assure  you  that  I  am 
amply  repaid  by  the  distinction  with  which  you  have  hon- 

33* 


390  TEKEL, 

ored  me,  and  the  pleasure  I  have  enjoyed  in  company  with 
so  much  loveliness  and  intelligence." 

The  young  school-mistress  was  unaffectedly  grateful  to 
Cassel,  and  gratified  at  the  prosperous  issue  of  the  day. 

"  The  cars  are  in  sight,"  said  Cassel,  who  rode  away  to 
meet  the  excursionists  in  the  city,  form  the  procession,  and 
conduct  it  to  the  point  of  disintegration. 

The  pleasure-party  were  soon  again  in  the  city,  and,  this 
time  without  music,  were  moving  gayly  along  a  wide  and 
handsomely-built  street,  when  from  far  up  the  street  came 
cries,  and  shouts,  and  yells,  and  reports  of  pistol-shots, 
while,  from  his  saddle,  Cassel  could  see  a  commotion  of 
people  dashing  here  and  there  into  doors,  and  actively  seek 
ing  places  of  security.  The  commotion  and  alarm  drew 
nearer  and  nearer,  until  Cassel  discovered  the  rapidly-ap 
proaching  cause.  A  brace  of  infuriated,  half-wild  Western 
steers  were  rushing  down  the  street,  maddened  by  their 
strange  surroundings,  and  by  the  missiles  and  wounding 
pistol-balls  which  were  launched  at  them,  lunging  and  gor 
ing  at  every  salient  object  in  their  way.  Cassel  saw  that 
his  little  school  of  children  were  in  direct  and  imminent 
danger  of  being  scattered  and  gored  and  trampled  upon 
the  pave.  Luckily  he  had  taken  his  pistols  with  him  to 
the  picnic,  as  a  law  against  roughs  and  strolling  vagabonds. 
Knowing  that  he  had  not  a  moment  to  lose,  he  spurred  his 
trained  horse  forward  to  meet  the  mad  brutes.  The  leader 
made  directly  for  this  new  antagonist,  savagely  shaking  its 
head,  and  leveling  its  pointed  horns  for  ripping,  bloody 
work.  Cassel  sent  a  pistol-bullet  into  the  brain  of  the  fore 
most  animal  and  dropped  it  dead  in  its  tracks.  Its  com 
panion,  rendered  yet  more  furious,  came  bolting  forward  and 
lunged  desperately  at  the  pale  horse.  Cassel  had  barely 
time  to  spring  his  horse  aside  and  escape  the  formidable 
horns.  The  mad  steer  plunged  by  him,  and  started  for 
the  school-children  who  were  now  in  frightful  peril.  They 
had  kept  together,  along  the  sidewalk,  backed  by  a  blank 
wall.  They  had  not  appreciated  their  danger,  which  was 
multiplied  tenfold  by  their  red  sashes,  and  Cassel  had  no 
time  to  tell  them  of  it.  As  the  mad  brute  escaped  him, 
with  a  glance  of  fire  Cassel  wheeled  his  fierce  stallion, 
aud  as  no  pistol-shot  from  the  rear  could  halt  the  danger, 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  391 

with  the  quick,  sharp  cry  of  the  lazador  he  waked  up  the 
bold  breast  of  the  stallion,  wielded  the  lasso  above  his  head, 
and  came  like  a  rushing  thundershaft  down  the  street.  It 
was  now  that  the  champion  of  the  prairies  was  in  full 
career,  and  now  it  was  that  something,  more  dreadful  than 
any  wild  brute's  hoof  or  horn,  gored  through  the  heart  of 
Cora  Glencoe,  and  overthrew  her,  and  trampled  out  her 
life.  Here  again  was  pursuer  and  pursued ;  and  here 
again,  coming  like  an  angel  of  death,  was  the  matchless 
and  terrible  horseman,  who,  in  fierce  pursuit,  had  spurned 
the  sands  of  the  Larboard  Strand,  who  had  driven  Jonas 
Aiken  into  the  sea,  and  three  times  plunged  the  dagger  to 
his  heart.  Here  indeed  was  the  unknown  murderer !  Re 
cognition,  like  a  flash  of  lightning,  pierced  her  soul,  and 
all  her  recent  full-hearted  happiness  and  wildering  joys 
were  scorched  and  withered  up  and  consumed,  as  grass 
before  the  wind-driven  fire.  Cora  drooped  senseless  to 
the  pavement,  just  as  Cassel,  with  an  unerring  cast,  lassoed 
the  forelegs  of  the  wild  brute,  and  tripped  it  almost  at 
the  feet  of  Miss  Lightner,  who  stood  her  ground,  but  with 
pale  terror  in  her  face.  In  another  moment,  Cassel  put  an 
end  to  the  danger  with  his  pistol.  His  action  had  been 
brave  and  magnificent,  and  waked  up  the  enthusiasm  of 
every  one  who  saw  it.  He  was  greeted  with  cheer  after 
cheer  from  the  street,  and  the  waving  of  handkerchiefs 
from  the  overlooking  windows.  But  soon  he  saw  Miss 
Lightner  kneeling  and  supporting  Cora.  He  sprapg  from, 
his  horse. 

"  She  has  fainted !"  said  Miss  Lightner,  quickly.  "  Get 
some  water!" 

Cora  was  soon  restored  to  consciousness,  but  when 
Cassel  offered  his  tender  assiduities  she  turned  from  him 
with  a  look  of  mingled  horror  and  unutterable  reproach. 
He  thought  it  but  the  effects  of  still  lingering  fright.  He 
arranged  for  Miss  Lightner  to  accompany  Cora  to  the 
Boyd  mansion  in  a  carriage,  and  he  would  take  charge  of 
the  children,  and  dismiss  them  home. 

When  Cassel  returned  to  the  mansion,  he  felt  a  bleak 
fear  enter  his  breast  with  what  he  was  told.  Linda  in 
formed  him  that  Cora  looked  like  marble,  and  was  almost 
as  quiet.  That  she  was  perfectly  rational,  and  was  not, 


392  TEKEL, 

in  any  ordinary  sense,  ill.  That  she  had  already  written 
a  letter,  which  Linda  herself  had  read,  demanding  of  Mr. 
Hope  that  he  should  take  her  home ;  that  if  he  did  not 
send  for  her,  she  would  go  herself  to  Cliff  Hall  at  the  ex 
piration  of  a  stated  day. 

"  She  will  give  me  no  explanation,  though  she  is  still 
affectionate  to  me,  or  tries  to  be,"  said  Linda.  "  She 
sheds  no  tears,  complains  of  nothing,  but  looks  at  me  as 
if  her  heart  was  dead  within  her;  as  if  her  whole  body 
was  dead,  and  her  soul  was  yet  inhabiting  the  corpse. 
Oh,  it  is  terrible!"  and  Linda  broke  away  with  tearful 
lamentations.  Coming  back,  Linda  said,  "  I  asked  her  to 
see  you,  but  «he  went  into  ice,  and  coldly  spurned  the  re 
quest.  Brother,  there  is  something  out  of  common  that 
is  pressing  upon  and  afflicting  Cora.  Oh,  if  you  could 
only  see  her  desperate,  hopeless-looking  eyes,  you  would 
think  that  murder  had  been  committed  upon  everything 
in  this  world  which  she  had  loved  and  cherished!  I  know 
not  what  to  do,  and  her  immovable  opposition  bars  me  of 
your  assistance.  Why  it  is,  God  only  knows." 

Cassel  was  most  agonizingly  confounded.  Cora,  whose 
mental  constitution  he  knew  to  be  cast  in  the  healthiest 
mould,  and  whose  rosy  lips  but  an  hour  ago  had  formed 
the  sweetest  words  in  the  universe  for  him,  now  to  turn 
about  and  spurn  the  very  sight  of  him  !  It  was  beyond 
all  earthly  alchemy  to  analyze  the  motives  of  such  extreme 
and  dreary  conduct.  But  Cassel  had  a  hope,  that  when 
Cora  recovered  fully  from  her  fright,  as  he  conceived  it, 
she  would  again  be  as  she  had  been.  He  was  urged  by 
all  the  tenderness  which  he  felt  for  her,  to  go  to  her, 
break  up  what  evidently  was  an  illusion,  and  soothe  her 
back  again  to  lively  joy,  but  he  prudently  decided  first  to 
get  Linda  to  give  her  some  composing  draught,  which 
would  steady  her  shaken  nerves,  or  put  her  to  sleep. 

"  Cora,  take  this,"  said  Linda. 

"What  is  it?" 

"  Something  to  restore  you." 

"I  do  not  want  it." 

"  Brother  Cassel  sent  it." 

"  Take  it  away/" 

Linda  came  back  and  told  Cassel  that  Cora  would  not 
have  it. 


OR   CORA   GLENCOE.  393 

The  blighted  young  girl  held  but  one  imperial,  overpow 
ering,  disastrous  feeling  to  her  heart.  He,  whom  she  had 
given  herself  to  love  as  a  god,  was  a  devil.  Lucifer  had 
come  upon  her  and  exalted  her,  only  to  break  her  cruelly 
against  a  stone.  Her  tender  heart  was  now  as  bleak  as 
the  snow-clad  wastes  of  winter.  Cut  away  from  all  the 
world,  she  felt  alone  like  a  dying  cygnet  drifting  upon  a 
boundless  tide.  Bootless  was  it  that  at  Creswood  was  a 
venerable  man  who  loved  her :  bootless  was  it  that  in 
Philadelphia  were  arms  ready  to  receive  her,  for  with 
them  she  had  not  grown  up  and  intertwined.  Fate  had 
cast  her  out,  and  there  was  nothing  under  the  vault  of 
heaven  to  which  she  might  fondly  cling,  or  upon  which 
she  could  rest  in  peace. 

Never  again  did  Cora  sit  at  the  family  board  of  Linda 
Boyd.  She  took  her  meals  in  her  room,  and  would  neither 
see  Cassel  Rapid  nor  communicate  with  him.  Cassel's 
heart  was  completely  harrowed  up  by  anxiety,  suspense, 
mystery,  and  painful  vigil.  Cora's  conduct  was  so  strangely 
and  stubbornly  inexplicable.  Except  upon  the  hypothesis 
of  partial  insanity,  he  could  find  no  shadow  of  reason  or 
excuse  for  her,  and  even  upon  that  ground,  the  calamity 
which  confronted  him  would  be  superlatively  painful,  and 
disastrous  to  his  hopes  for  both  Cora  and  himself.  He 
often  contended  against  a  strong  and  active  impulse  to 
force  himself  into  her  presence,  imagining  that  he  could 
bring  back  the  color  to  her  cheeks  and  the  live  light  to  her 
eyes  ;  but  he  hardly  could  thrust  himself  upon  her  in  the 
face  of  her  repeated  and  positive  denials,  lest  it  should  ag 
gravate  her  condition,  granting  that  hallucination  was  the 
ruler  of  her  otherwise  unaccountable  ways.  Days  passed, 
and  Cassel,  remembering  her  mad  uncle,  could  not  other 
wise  conclude  but  that  Cora  was  suffering  from  partial 
insanity  superinduced  by  fright.  The  suddenness  and 
singularity  of  the  peril  which  had  so  rudely  threatened 
her  and  her  companions,  and  possibly  the  additional  aspect 
of  her  lover  being  in  the  very  jaws  of  the  danger,  had 
caused  her,  as  Cassel  thought,  to  faint.  When  she  re 
covered  her  consciousness,  it  was  accompanied  by  the 
glamour  that  her  lover  was  himself  the  peril,  and  that,  by 
reason  of  his  swift  and  vivid  action,  a  fear  of  him  had 


394  TEKEL, 

lodged  within  her  breast  and  was  ever  present  to  her  mind, 
making  her  think  of  him  with  an  insane  dread,  which  time 
alone  would  cure.  Cassel  was  satisfied  that  there  was  no 
other  foundation  in  the  broad  world  upon  which  to  build 
an  explanation. 

Cora  had  occasion  and  incentive,  greater  than  ordinary, 
to  cut  the  words,  deep  and  sharp,  into  the  tablet  of  her 
code,  that  she  would  "countenance  no  man-slayer ;"  for 
the  subject  had  been  brought  home  to  her,  crimsoned  with 
the  red  wash  of  human  blood.  Her  uncle  had  again  and 
again  insulted  and  spit  upon  a  man,  and  had  then  killed 
him  for  resenting  the  injuries.  But  he  was  her  father,  as 
she  had  thought,  and  the  lock  of  lineage  had  held  her  to 
him.  But  with  her  own  eyes  she  had  seen  Cassel  Rapid 
rush  like  a  tiger  upon  his  fellow  and  kill  him.  She  felt 
that,  knowingly,  she  could  never  touch  a  bloody  hand. 
She  was  outraged  that  Cassel,  knowing  her  principles  so 
well,  should  have  come  upon  her  with  his  sealed  history 
and  fatal  beauty,  pillaging  her  of  all  she  had,  only  to  re 
pay  her  with  the  hated  offering  of  a  red  hand.  But,  like 
alms  to  an  impostor,  her  heart  was  given,  and  could  never 
be  recalled.  Not  that  she  regarded  Cassel  as  still  worthy 
of  her  love,  but  there  were  now  two  Cassel  Rapids  in  her 
little  world  :  the  one  was  her  matchless  lover  and  the 
child  of  the  Sun;  the  other  was  a  man-slayer  and  the 
slayer  of  her  peace.  From  the  remembrance  of  her  lover 
she  could  no  more  escape  than  the  stars  can  escape  the 
Infinite  Glance  which  lights  them.  She  must  still  love 
what  Cassel  Rapid  appeared  to  be — but  what  he  actually 
was,  never  !  She  must  worship  the  myth,  but  never  again 
the  man. 

Oswald  Huron  was  unmistakably  and  violently  deranged. 
To  all  who  were  compelled  to  remain  with  him,  he  made 
Cliff  Hall  a  foretaste  of  what  they  might  expect,  should 
the  devil  wait  upon  them  at  their  death-beds,  and  carry 
them  below.  Vindictively  his  mind  ran  upon  the  subject 
of  Cora,  and  he  had  already  determined  to  spurn  the 
agreement  which  he  had  made,  and  summon  her  home. 
If  need  should  be,  he  would  go  for  her  himself. 

He  went  out  one  day  where  the  accident  occurred  which 
leads  to  a  great  portion  of  this  narrative,  and  leaned  over 


OR    CORA    GLENCOE.  395 

the  bluff  to  look  down  upon  the  spot  where,  more  than  six 
teen  years  previously,  an  infant  was  broken  and  mangled. 
The  sight  of  it  seemed  to  madden  him  and  charm  him. 
He  lingered  there  all  day,  steeped  in  acrimonious  gloom, 
under  the  influence  of  the  Apollyon,  which,  to  his  own 
knowledge,  haunted  him.  Late  in  the  evening,  the  evil 
spirit  that  was  in  him  seemed  to  rend  him,  and  with  a 
frantic  cry  he  rushed  forward  and  sprang  wildly  over  the 
precipice  and  was  dashed  to  pieces.  One  of  the  negroes, 
who  had  been  detailed  regularly  to  watch  him  in  his 
wanderings,  but  who  feared  to  approach  him,  saw  his  sui 
cidal  leap,  and  sped  home  with  the  news  of  it. 

Before  Mr.  Hope  could  send  for  Cora,  Neville  Huron 
came  up  from  Philadelphia.  He  brought  her  the  first 
tidings  of  Oswald  Huron's  death,  and  qualified  the  news 
by  suggesting  to  Cora  that  however  much  the  fatality  was 
to  be  lamented,  it  struck  from  her  pathway  the  only  obstacle 
to  her  peace  and  permanent  happiness.  But  Mr.  Huron 
found  his  daughter  in  a  condition,  of  which  he  could  get 
no  satisfactory  understanding,  from  her  or  any  one  else. 
She  would  only  tell  him  that  her  life  was  bankrupt ;  that 
it  had  almost  ever  been  so ;  and  that  he  must  take  her 
home  as  a  flower  that  was  dead.  The  father  was  inex 
pressibly  grieved.  He  urged  upon  Cora  that  her  trials 
were  over,  that  she  now  had  a  father,  and  mother,  and 
brother,  and  sisters,  who  would  hedge  her  about  with  love, 
and  coax  or  steal  away  the  poisonous  residuum  of  the  past. 
He  regarded  Cora  as  having  been  wearied  out  by  the  con 
stant  strain  which  life  had  put  upon  her.  He  was  now 
prepared  to  cut  the  straining  cords,  give  her  a  cheerful 
range,  and  bring  out  the  sun  to  shine  upon  her,  and  restore 
her.  But  Cora's  hopes  had  been  wrecked,  just  as  the 
clouds  had  broken  away  and  let  in  the  light  of  the  dearest 
day  of  all  her  life.  Her  happiness  in  the  very  hour  of 
its  birth  had  been  beheaded,  as  by  the  sweeping  cimeter 
of  Saladiu.  Although  she  was  now  possessed  of  a  home 
where  wealth  and  affection  would  greet  and  gird  her,  she 
felt  that  she  would  carry  into  that  home  a  shadow  which 
would  darken  its  walls,  and  a  burden  which  would  oppress 
its  joy.  She  felt  that  "  Cora  Glencoe,"  as  she  had  not 
been  in  the  past,  would  not  be  in  the  future,  essential  to 


396  TEKEL, 

the  happiness  or  integrity  of  the  house  of  the  Hurons  ; 
that  the  family  circle  was  complete  without  her  ;  that  no 
accustomed  niche  was  there  for  her  to  occupy ;  and  that 
instead  of  inhabiting  she  would  haunt  the  house  that  gave 
her  birth.  Could  her  sisters  love  her  as  they  would  have 
done,  bad  the  associations  of  childhood  locked  and  linked 
them  together  ?  Could  her  parents  love  her  as  though  she 
had  learned  to  coo  upon  their  lap  and  knee,  and  vex  and 
delight  them  with  the  importunities  and  enchantments  of 
early  childhood  ?  Could  any  of  them  love  her  at  all,  and 
would  they  not  weary  of  her,  coming  among  them,  as  she 
would,  with  a  cheek  that  was  wan,  and  a  heart  that  was 
faint  from  the  sappings  of  that  vampire— Care  ?  The 
element  of  steel  in  Cora's  composition,  which  had  sustained 
her  in  her  miserable  life  with  Oswald  Huron,  was  melted 
by  the  heat  of  the  fiery  furnace  through  which  she  had 
just  passed,  so  that  she  drooped  beneath  the  weight  of  her 
crosses,  and  swayed  with  the  behests  of  the  pitiless  blast. 


CHAPTER  XXXYL 

CASSEL  RAPID  and  Cora  Glencoe  were  each  in  that  con 
dition  which  induces  many  faulty-headed  people  to  commit 
the  Rash  Act — Suicide.  But  neither  of  them  thought  of 
such  a  desperate  way  out  of  their  desperate  troubles. 

Of  the  two,  Cassel  was  the  more  hopeful,  and  conse 
quently  the  more  restless.  Although  he  was  as  one  lost 
in  the  night,  without  star  or  beacon  to  guide  him,  he 
trusted  that  the  morning  would  come  again  perhaps,  and 
smiling  Aurora  light  up  his  pathway,  that  he  might  pur 
sue  it.  But  he  was  compelled  to  admit  to  himself  that 
his  trust  was  a  wretched  one  at  best. 

Cassel  had  suffered  before,  when  anguish,  deep  beyond 
the  reach  of  soothing  plummet,  had  overwhelmed  him. 
But  then  he  knew  the  wherefore.  Now,  he  could  not  con 
ceive  or  conjecture,  far  or  near,  why  it  was  that  Cora,  so 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  397 

immediately  after  having  given  her  heart  to  him,  should 
utterly  turn  against  him  as  though  he  had  done  her  an 
aggravated  and  unpardonable  wrong,  disdaining  even  to 
accuse  him,  but,  by  her  actions,  telling  him  plainly  that 
he  himself  well  knew  the  great  sin  which  he  had  com 
mitted  against  her. 

The  idea  that  Cora's  condition  arose  from  glamour  or 
insanity,  no  longer  stood  him  in  stead,  for  both  Linda  and 
Miss  Lightner  insisted  that  Cora  was  as  sane  as  he  was 
himself,  and  that  she  was  undoubtedly  acting  from  an  un 
clouded  and  intelligent  will. 

Cora  had  gone  home.  It  seemed  useless  for  Cassel  to 
follow  her  ;  but  not  to  do  so,  and  never  to  find  out  what 
this  unimaginable  thing  could  be  which  had  come  between 
them,  would  harass  him  through  his  whole  life,  let  that 
life  be  what  or  where  it  might. 

Cassel  was  not  a  man  to  give  up.  Neither  was  he  a 
man  to  waste  himself  in  bootless  enterprises  which  prom 
ised  nothing.  If,  therefore,  Cora  would  not  see  him,  hear 
him,  or  communicate  with  him  directly  or  indirectly,  what 
could  he  do  ?  But  for  his  unlimited  confidence  in  Cora's 
truth  and  justice,  he  neither  could  nor  would  have  under 
taken  anything  whatever.  He  would  have  acknowledged 
the  stroke  as  once  before  he  had  acknowledged  a  deeper 
and  more  disastrous  one.  But,  convinced  as  he  was  that 
Cora,  in  her  opinion  and  action,  was  conscientiously  true 
to  herself,  he  determined  to  do  the  only  thing  left  for  him 
to  do.  He  would  endeavor,  by  watching  and  waiting, 
himself  to  solve  the  mystery,  despite  her  absolute  taci 
turnity.  But  how  should  he  go  about  it,  and  where  should 
he  commence  ?  His  first  step  was  to  write  to  Mr.  Hope 
(by  Garland,  who  had  come  up  to  New  York  for  Cora, 
not  knowing  that  Neville  Huron  had  taken  her  home),  and 
inform  the  old  minister  of  everything  that  bad  ever  trans 
pired  between  himself  and  Cora,  then  solicit  the  minister's 
advice  and  intervention.  Giving  Mr.  Hope  time  to  write 
to  the  young  girl,  hear  from  her,  and  then  write  back  to 
him,  he  waited  impatiently  for  the  result  of  his  first  step. 
Finally  a  letter  came,  and  Cassel,  expectantly,  opened  it. 
But  if  broke  like  an  apple  of  the  Dead  Sea,  containing 
little  else  but  ashes. 

34 


398  TEKEL, 

"  Do  not  ask  me  to  write  it  to  you,"  Cora  had  only  writ 
ten,  so  far  as  the  cause  of  her  attitude  toward  Cassel  was 
involved  in  the  correspondence. 

From  this  reply  Mr.  Hope  inferred,  and  so  intimated  to 
Cassel,  that,  should  he  ever  have  the  opportunity,  he  might 
induce  Cora  to  tell  it  to  him. 

"I  am  confident,"  wrote  Mr.  Hope,  "that  she  would 
tell  me,  if  I  could  only  see  her ;  which,  at  present,  I  can 
not." 

Cassel  reflected  that  Cora  was  in  Philadelphia  and  the 
old  minister  in  Creswood,  and  that  they  might  never  meet 
again.  She  would  certainly  not  go  down  to  Creswood  to 
confer  with  Mr.  Hope,  and  it  was  not  to  be  expected  that 
the  old  minister  would  go  up  to  Philadelphia  to  interfere 
with  Cora.  Cassel  could  not  ask  it  of  him.  But  notwith 
standing  that  it  was  a  long  and  tedious  journey  for  age 
and  infirmity  to  undertake,  and  that  the  errand  wras  a  pre 
sumptuous  one,  this  venerable  and  goodly  man  did  go  to 
the  far  city,  in  behalf  of  the  son  of  his  benefactor, — but 
not  until  other  events  in  this,  our  history,  had  transpired. 

Cassel,  upon  receipt  of  Mr.  Hope's  letter,  appreciated 
the  difficulties  which  contravened  a  natural  or  probable 
meeting  between  the  minister  and  Cora  ;  also,  could  he 
even  bring  them  together,  the  slim,  rare  chance  that  the 
obstinate  girl  would  be  more  communicative  with  Mr. 
Hope  than  with  others  who  had  been  as  sisters  to  her, — 
namely,  Linda  and  Miss  Lightner;  or  than  with  himself, 
who  had  been  her  tender  guardian  and  still  more  tender, 
outspoken  lover.  Cassel  had  played  his  first  and  strongest 
card,  and  the  trick  was  against  him.  A  long  night  of 
anxiety  and  oppressive  thrall  was  before  him. 

But,  as  drowning  men  will  catch  at  straws  and  bubbles, 
or  the  wounded  leopard  seek  familiar  haunts,  Cassel,  from 
somewhat  similar  impulses,  looked  in  upon  Hector  O'Dare  ; 
not  that  he  anticipated  consulting  him,  but  O'Dare,  pro 
fessionally,  was  intimately  connected  with  the  Hurons, 
could  talk  about  them,  and  probably  tell  him  next  to  no 
thing  about  Cora.  But  that  would  be  better  than  absolutely 
nothing  at  all. 

Cassel  liked  O'Dare ;  first,  because  O'Dare  liked  Cassel, 
and  had  done  him  unforgotten  favors  ;  second,  the  detec- 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  399 

tive  was  a  capital  fellow ;  third,  he  was  the  best  of  com 
pany,  and  never  below  par.  When  O'Dare  had  the  leisure 
to  gossip  and  joke  with  him,  Cassel,  who  was  something 
of  a  loafer,  could  not  find  in  all  New  York  a  more  pleasant 
lounging-place  than  the  office  of  the  detective. 

O'Dare  was  a  cautious  man,  as  well  as  a  cautious  detec 
tive,  and  trusted  no  one  implicitly ;  but  he  probably  did 
trust  Cassel  to  greater  lengths  than  he  trusted  any  other 
man  alive,  not  excepting  his  confidential  clerk.  And  he 
frequently  amused  the  young  man,  by  the  hour,  or  the  half 
hour,  according  as  time  was  precious,  with  details  of  in 
imitable  incidents  and  casualties  which  had  interlaced  and 
befallen  his  professional  career. 

When  Cassel  entered  the  detective's  office  on  the  occa 
sion  in  question,  O'Dare  met  him  with  his  usual  droll  bra 
vado,  slapped  him  on  the  shoulder,  and  bantered  him  for 
another  wrestling  match. 

"  No,"  said  Cassel.     "  I  am  not  in  the  humor  to-day." 
-  O'Dare's  quick  eye  detected  that  Cassel  was  inclined  to 
be  serious,  if  not  dejected.'    He  rejoined, — 

"It's  not  far  from  here  to  Philadelphia,  Rapid.  What 
are  you  down  in  the  mouth  about  ?  If  you  have  no  money 
to  pay  your  passage,  I'll  dead-head  you." 

"  Sit  down,  O'Dare,  and  act  like  a  sensible  human." 

"  That  is  to  say,  act  in  character — act  myself — act  Hec 
tor  O'Dare,  for  instance,"  replied  the  detective,  laughing. 
"  But,  by  the  other  way, — (most  people  preface  by  saying 
'  by  the  way,"1  but  Hector  generally  admonishes  with  '  by 
the  other  way,'  for  you  can  always  anticipate  a  change  of 
direction  when  you  hear  that  significant  '  by  the  way'), — 
therefore,  by  the  other  way,  you  have  been  indulging  in  a 
little  adventure  lately,  and  all  by  yourself." 

"What?"  asked  Cassel. 

"  What !  Why,  the  papers  were  full  of  it.  '  Tremen 
dous  '  is  no  adjective  at  all.  '  Magnificentissimus  '  is  a 
dwarf  compared  with  the  string  of  type  which  printed  you 
a  hero.  A  frantic  drove  of  wild-cattle  were  about  to  run, 
hoof  and  horns,  over  the  city.  You  halted,  shot,  and  las 
soed  the  last  one  of  them.  Why  didn't  you  whistle  for 
me,  and  let  me  share  the  glory  ?" 

"  O'Dare,   your  enthusiasm  outstrips  your  discretion. 


400  TEKEL, 

You  would  earn  a  good  salary  as  '  local '  to  a  sensational 
column." 

"  These  roustabout  locals  do  get  a  little  droll  sometimes, 
don't  they  ?  But,  by  the  other  way,  what  is  the  drollest 
thing  in  life  that  you  ever  read  ?" 

"  It  would  be  an  endless  job  to  consider  your  question." 

"  Well,  I  can  tell  you  the  drollest  thing  that  Hector 
O'Dare  ever  read,  and  make  a  short  job  of  it  at  that." 

"  Suppose  you  tell  it,  then,"  said  Cassel. 

"  It  is  the  last  clause — second  verse — sixteenth  chapter 
— Genesis, — and  reads  so:  '  And  Abram  hearkened  to 
the  voice  of  Sarai,' — ha !  ha !  ha !  h-a  1"  and  O'Dare 
laughed  as  heartily  as  if  the  Bible,  which  in  the  main  he 
venerated,  had  been  a  collection  of  facetiae. 

"  I  don't  discover  anything  very  droll  in  that,"  said 
Cassel,  who  was  not  very  much  inclined  to  laugh. 

"  I  know  you  don't.  But  you  will,  when  you  go  and 
look  at  the  context." 

"Which  I  shall  probably  not  do,"  carelessly  observed 
Cassel. 

"  I  don't  care  whether  you  do  or  not." 

Chatting  awhile,  O'Dare  finally  asked, — 

"  What  the  devil  is  the  matter,  Rapid  ?  I  never  saw  you 
look  so  sober,  or  heard  you  laugh  with  less  unction  in  all 
my  life.  In  fact  you  don't  laugh  at  all,  but  put  me  off  with 
a  grin  so  dry  that  it  actually  makes  me  athirst.  Is  there 
anything  swagging,  or  rotten,  in  the  build  of  ye  ?" 

"We  all  have  our  serious  moments." 

"  To  be  sure;  but  you  are  not  only  serious,  but  despond 
ent.  By  the  other  way, — that  is,  to  change  the  subject 
entirely,  don't  you  think,  Cassel,  that  I  am  entitled  to  your 
confidence  in  a  matter  in  which  I  did  you  prime  service,  but 
about  the  sequel  of  which  you  have  never  vouchsafed  me 
a  word  ?  I  have  respected  your  silence,"  said  O'Dare,  with 
true  feeling,  which  made  him  both  dignified  and  graceful, 
"  and  will  continue  to  do  so  upon  the  slightest  intimation. 
You  know  what  I  mean." 

"  I  do.  You  wish  me  to  tell  you  in  what  manner  I  met 
Jonas  Aiken  and  killed  him." 

"  You  have  stated  it  with  a  perspicuity  absolutely  fright 
ful,"  exclaimed  O'Dare,  who  did  not  appear  very  much 
frightened  however. 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  401 

Cassel  described,  more  minutely  than  we  have  done, 
the  tragedy  of  the  Larboard  Strand  where  Jonas  Aiken 
was  so  swiftly  sent  to  his  well-deserved  doom. 

"  Just  as  I  or  any  other  man  with  a  heart  in  him  would 
have  done  it,"  said  O'Dare.  "And  now,  while  you  are  in 
a  confiding  humor,  tell  me  why  you  are  so  dashed  to-day. 
Maybe  I  can  help  you." 

"  I  fear  it  is  beyond  the  reach  of  all  your  skill." 

"  There  are  few  things  which  cannot  be  manipulated  or 
managed  by  deft  hands." 

"And  this,"  replied  Cassel,  "proves  thus  far  to  be  one 
of  the  few." 

"  Is  it  money  ?" 

"No." 

"  Then  I  know  what  it  is." 

"What?" 

"  Disappointment  here,"  and  O'Dare  touched  the  region 
of  his  heart. 

"  Why  do  you  fly  so  quickly  from  the  pocket  to  the 
breast?" 

"  Because,  when  a  man  is  brave,  honest,  wealthy,  in  good 
health,  young,  unmarried,  handsome  as  a  Greek  ideal,  and 
is  without  kindred  to  lose,  or  bring  him  into  trouble,  there 
is  but  one  thing  which  can  rule  him  so  dreadfully  below 
par  as  I  find  you  to-day.  Why,  Rapid,  your  countenance 
is  not  worth  two  bits  on  the  original  dollar.  Tell  me  of 
the  complication,  my  young  sweetheart  of  a  boy,  and  I 
may  be  able  to  untangle  the  tangle  for  you.  I  may  pos 
sibly  help  you  some  at  the  very  least.  Is  it  little  Coy  who 
is  troubling  you  ?  I  know  it  is,  and  you  need  no  longer 
try  to  hide  your  elephant  behind  a  handkerchief." 

"  O'Dare,  you  have  shrewdly  guessed,  and  your  shrewd- 
.  ness  shall  be  the  purchase-money  for  my  confidence.  I  am 
in  trouble,  and  it  is  Coy,  as  you  call  her,  who  is  the  cause 
of  it.  But  it  is  not  the  ordinary  trouble  of  a  lass-lorn 
school-boy  which  is  affecting  me ;  there  is  something 
strange  about  it, — so  strange  that  I  can  in  no  way  account 
for  it.  I  will  tell  you." 

Cassel  detailed  to  O'Dare  the  particulars  of  his  tribula 
tion,  and  then  asked, — 

"  Now,  what  do  you  think  of  it  ?" 
34* 


402  TJEKEL, 

"As  you  said,  it  is  a  very  strange  thing  indeed,"  an 
swered  the  detective,  who,  after  reflecting  a  moment,  ob 
served,  "  You  remember  that  her  Uncle  Oswald  was  in 
sane;  and,  by  the  other  way,  did  you  know  that  he  is 
dead?" 

"  I  remember  his  insanity,  and  also  know  of  his  death  ; 
but  I  am  well  assured  that  insanity  has  nothing  to  do  with 
Cora's  actions." 

"  Fright  cannot  have  superinduced  such  conduct,  for  she 
is  a  girl  of  as  fine  nerve  as  any  that  I  know.  I  have  seen 
her  often,  and  I  especially  tried  her  once  myself,  down  on 
the  beach  at  Creswood;"  and  O'Dare  told  Cassel  of  the 
time  when  he  gave  Cora  the  gem  pistol  while  she  was  sit 
ting  alone  upon  the  Tarpeian  Rock. 

"  She  was  sitting  exactly  there  when  I  senj;  that  hell 
hound  to  his  doom,"  said  Cassel,  with  a  lightning  glance 
which  indicated  that  his  soul  would  never  sleep  over  that 
deed  and  the  cause  of  it;  "  and  she  saw  me  do  it,  for  it 
was  dono  right  before  her  eyes." 

"  Flas  she  ever  recognized  you  as  the  party  ?"  asked  the 
detective. 

"  Not  that  I  know  of, — in  fact  I  know  that  she  has  not." 

"  You  were  riding  that  fierce  stallion  ?" 

"  Yes."  ? 

"And  came  up  the  strand  in  hot  speed  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Wielding  your  lasso  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"Rapid,  I  have  it,"  said  O'Dare,  quietly,  but  with  a 
gleam  of  triumph  from  his  cool  clear  eyes. 

"  Have  what  ?" 

"  I  hold  the  mystery  in  solution." 

Cassel  sprang  up,  and  in  a  voice  half  stern,  said, — 

"  O'Dare,  do  not  mock  me,  I  warn  you  I" 

"  I  am  not  mocking  you,  quick  thunderbolt  that  you  are. 
You  are  the  last  man  on  earth  whom  I  would  either  dare 
or  desire  to  mock.  Sit  down,  and  I  will  hold  up  to  your 
view  the  solution  as  in  a  crystal  goblet,  that  you  may  look 
it  through  and  through." 

Cassel  sat  down,  with  his  eyes  fixed  upon  O'Dare,  who 
continued,  distinctly  and  succinctly, — 


OR   CORA    OLENCOE.  403 

"  When,  the  other  day,  you  came  rushing  down  the 
street,  after  the  mad  steer,  riding  the  identical  pale  stallion, 
wielding  the  identical  lasso,  and  with  war  and  exigency  in 
your  countenance,  in  the  vivid  picture  she  recognized  you 
as  the  identical  man  who  sent  that  devil  Aiken  to  judg 
ment.  Cassel,  she  regards  you  as  a  murderer  !  There  is 
the  solution." 

"  O'Dare  !"  cried  Cassel,  again  springing  up,  "  you  are  a 
wizzard  I  You  are  the  very  Ithuriel  at  the  touch  of  whose 
spear  this  monster  of  a  thing  stands  revealed.  But,  thank 
Heaven,  it  is  less  terrible  when  revealed  than  when  in  dis 
guise.  Give  me  your  hand,  you  cunning  captor  of  secret 
and  mercurial  things  ;  you  have  struck  a  light  in  the  black 
firmament  which  overhung  me  and  imprisoned  me  with 
its  close  horizon." 

The  two  men  locked  hands  and  wrung  each  other  vig 
orously.  They  were  each  elated  with  the  discovery,  for 
in  it  the  detective  triumphed  and  the  lover  hoped  to  tri 
umph. 

"Now,  sir,"  said  O'Dare,  "do  not  doubt  my  willingness 
to  serve  you ;  and,  above  all  things,  never  doubt  my  capa 
city." 

Cassel  was  exalted  from  his  vale  of  despondency.  That 
O'Dare  had  found  the  key  to  the  troublous  secret  was  be 
yond  question.  Neither  did  he  question  that  Cora,  when 
she  should  leai'n  why  it  was  that  he  had  slain  Jonas  Aiken, 
would  give  him  back  all  that  she  had  so  relentlessly  taken 
from  him. 

"  Cassel,  your  face  is  appreciated  to  six  bits  on  the  dol 
lar,  at  the  very  least." 

"  O'Dare,  I  shall  never  again  doubt  your  capacity.  I 
have  come  to  believe  that  in  your  subtlety  you  can  almost 
tell  me  why  water  runs  down  hill." 

The  new  aspect  of  his  affairs  had  already  induced  Cas 
sel  to  reoccupy  his  old  familiar  position  of  joking  antag 
onism  with  O'Dare.  But  the  detective,  somewhat  at  length, 
replied, —  « 

"  There,  lovely  youth,  you  are  mistaken  altogether.  I 
would  greatly  prefer  an  undertaking  to  put  this  and  that 
together  and  block  out  a  reason  why  one  man  does,  and 
one  woman  doesn't,  than  vainly  to  endeavor  to  explain  the 


404  TEKEL, 

mysteries  of  creation.  I  might  tell  you  that  water  runs 
down  hill  under  the  influence  of  the  attraction  of  gravita 
tion,  and  that  the  attraction  of  gravitation  is  a  mutual  at 
traction  between  matter  and  matter,  which  draws  the  lesser 
to  the  greater ;  but  if  for  the  term  '  attraction  of  gravita 
tion,'  I  should  substitute  the  equally  illustrative  term 
'  tom-fist-i-cus  of  the  ox-cox-i-jis,'  you  would  know  just  as 
well,  under  the  latter  term  as  under  the  former,  what  that 
influence  actually  is.  Wiseacres  describe  Electricity  as  a 
fluid,  for  the  sake  of  identification  or  of  recording  their 
wisdom,  but  Hector  O'Dare  is  bold  enough  to  deny  that 
it  is  a  fluid.  Electricity,  to  the  brainless  creation,  bears 
the  same  relation  that  thought  does  to  brain-ed  creation. 
Brain  is  the  galvanic  battery  of  thought,  and  sends  it  even 
beyond  the  invisible  suns  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye. 
Electricity  is  the  corresponding  essence  or  scintillating 
flint  of  the  Material,  sleeping  as  the  child  sleeps,  or  musing 
as  man  muses,  except  when  Deity  directs  it  in  the  heav 
ens,  or  man  vents  it  with  artificial  contrivances.  To  call 
Electricity  a  fluid,  you  may  as  well  say  that  the  letter  A 
or  the  figure  9  is  an  ink  spot  or  a  chalk  mark ;  whereas, 
each  is  an  Idea.  You  may  object  to  the  assertion  that 
Electricity  to  Materiality  is  what  Mind  is  to  the  Flesh,  on 
the  substrata,  that  is,  on  the  ground,  that  thought  will 
traverse  space  and  penetrate  everywhere  at  will,  while 
Electricity  will  shy  from  a  feather  bed,  or  halt  before  a 
wall  of  glass.  I  will  answer  that  objection  by  suggesting 
that  as  there  are  some  substances  which  are  bad  conduc 
tors  of  Electricity,  or  with  which  it  has  no  affinity  what 
ever,  so  are  there  some  conditions  of  the  brain  which  re 
strict  thought, — for  example,  ignorance  ;  also  some  very 
bad  conductors  of  thought, — for  example,  nonsense, — ha  ! 
ha!  ha!  h-a!" 

"  By  which  very  bad  conductor,  nonsense,  you  have  en 
deavored  to  convey  your  ideas  or  thoughts  to  me.  I  can 
acknowledge  the  receipt  of  no  single  one  of  them.  O'Dare, 
you  talk  like  a  wise  fool." 

"  Like  a  fool,  or  to  a  fool  ?"  laughed  O'Dare.  "  I  some 
times  pick  up  a  fool  and  literally  larrup  him  with  learning, 
and  I  was  congratulating  myself  upon  having  secured  an 
audience." 


- 
OR   CORA   GLENCOE.  405 

"  Who  would  ever  have  dreamed  that  a  simple  rogue 
catcher  was  so  ambitious,  or  so  positive  a  wit !  But  give 
me  a  cigar  and  I  will  suck  wisdom  from  you  as  a  sponge 
sucks  water." 

"  Shall  I  tell  you  all  I  know  ?     Can  you  stand  it  ?" 

"  I  do  not  wish  to  hear  what  you  absolutely  know  ;  that 
would  be  too  uninteresting  and  matter-of-fact.  Tell  me 
what  you  suspect, — what  you  darkly  suspicion"  said 
Cassel,  with  all  his  old  humor  creeping  to  his  countenance. 

O'Dare  set  out  some  wine.  Lifting  a  full  glass,  he 
said, — 

"Cassel,  I  stick  to  my  old  toast, — '  Success,  the  measure 
of  genius.'  When  you  came  in  here  you  were  only  worth 
two  bits  on  the  dollar.  I  have  dragged  you  out  of  the 
Slough  of  Despond,  and,  by  mixing  a  little  sense  with  a 
good  deal  of  nonsense,  have  bulled  your  market  value  to 
about  ninety  cents  on  the  dollar.  I  leave  to  Coy  the 
pleasure  of  tossing  you  way  up  beyond  par  or  price,  if  she 
chooses  to  do  so.  But  take  your  carcass  out  of  my  office, 
for  I  have  not  a  single  other  minute  to  spare ;"  and  O'Dare 
rang  for  his  clerk,  whom  he  had  dismissed  when  his  inter 
view  with  Cassel  first  promised  to  be  a  confidential  one. 

"I  am  going  down  to  Creswood — have  you  any  mes 
sages  ?"  asked  Cassel. 

"  Yes.  Remember  me  to  Captain  Gale,  of  the  White- 
cap  ;  and  present  the  respects  of  the  '  Geologist'  to  young 
Hope,  the  Creswood  minister,  a  very  clever,  upright  gen 
tleman  no  doubt,  but,  on  a  well-remembered  occasion,  a 
most  aggravating  bore, — a  regular  curculio,  spiking  all  my 
green  fruit;"  and  O'Dare  rapidly  explained  to  Cassel  how 
the  young  minister  had  innocently  annoyed  him  and  almost 
upset  his  character  of  '  Geologist'  once  upon  a  time. 

Cassel  repaired  to  the  Boyd  mansion  and  notified  Linda 
that  he  should  be  absent  for  an  indefinite  period.  Though 
anxious,  she  did  not  turn  pale  with  dismay  or  break  into 
a  shower  of  grief,  as  she  had  done  on  a  former  occasion, 
for  she  now  felt  self-sustaining  :  her  good-by  was  a  smiling 
one,  though  a  few  tears  which  forced  themselves  out  and 
rolled,  like  dewdrops  from  a  blushing  rose,  off  from  her 
healthy  cheeks,  fully  attested  the  presence  and  wakeful- 
ness  of  her  affection  and  tenderness. 


,406  TEKEL, 

Cassel  went  down  to  Creswood,  and  with  him  went  the 
pale  horse.  As  the  young  man  approached  the  house  in 
which  he  was  born — "  Gift  Home,"  but  more  generally 
spoken  of  in  the  neighborhood  as  the  "  Parsonage" — he 
saw  Mr.  Hope  sitting  bareheaded  and  alone  upon  the 
portico,  watching  the  bold  beauty  of  bulging,  towering 
thunderheads,  as  they  rose  up  from  the  sea  and  caught 
the  golden  flash  of  a  summer  evening's  sun.  With  his 
snowy  hair  and  patriarchal  beard,  and  his  benevolent 
countenance  pensive  with  undefiled  Religion  and  lighted 
with  the  halo  of  Faith,  he  seemed  as  an  aged  warrior 
resting  from  his  battles,  and  confidently  looking  Above, 
from  whence  would  come  his  everlasting  victory.  As 
Cassel  came  forward,  this  old  man,  hoary  with  good 
deeds,  and  ripe  with  duties  well  performed,  and  dreaming 
as  it  were  in  the  holy  reflection  of  that  heaven  to  which 
he  was  so  manifestly  near,  the  youth  experienced  in  his 
heart  that  the  rare  picture  before  him  was  far  more  noble 
and  beautiful  and  touching  and  instructive  than  all  the 
glittering  panoramas  of  the  vain  and  folly-seeking  world. 
Cassel  took  off  his  hat  and  reverentially  approached,  as  a 
stripling  should  approach  a  venerable  grandfather  whose 
works  had  made  him  worthy,  and  whose  years  had  crowned 
him  with  majesty.  Mr.  Hope  arose  and  met  Cassel.  Put 
ting  his  broad  right  hand  upon  the  uncovered  head  of  the 
youth,  and  in  a  voice  tremulous  with  fervor,  he  said, — 

"  May  the  blessings  and  mercies  of  God  rest  upon  thee, 
my  son, — now,  henceforth,  and  forever.  " 

Cassel  leaned  his  head  against  the  old  minister's  breast, 
and  choked  down  his  rising  emotion.  In  a  few  moments 
the  family  was  about  him  and  he  was  receiving  from  every 
side  a  genuine  and  sprightly  welcome. 

During  the  evening,  after  tea,  Mr.  Hope,  with  reference 
to  the  things  which  he  knew  lay  heavily  against  Cassel's 
heart,  said,  in  answer  to  the  youth's  inquiring  and  plead 
ing  eyes, — 

"  To-morrow,  and  we  will  see  each  other." 


OR    CORA    GLEN  CO  E.  4QJ 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

CASSEL  rested  as  well  as  he  might  until  the  morrow. 
Mr.  Hope,  after  breakfast,  took  him  into  the  pastoral  study, 
closed  the  door,  and  locked  it. 

"  Now,  my  dear  boy,  tell  me  all." 

Cassel  felt  that  his  fortunes  were  about  to  be  put  into 
the  balance  and  weighed  out  to  him  ;  that  before  him  sat 
the  future  architect,  moulder,  and  arbiter  of  his  fate. 
Notwithstanding  this,  and  that  the  pure  truth  might  shat 
ter  his  hopes  forever,  he  canie  prepared  to  tell  only  the 
truth. 

"  Mr.  Hope,"  said  he,  "  since  my  last  letter  to  you,  I 
have  had  suggested  to  my  mind  what  I  confidently  be 
lieve  to  be  the  foundation  upon  which  my  trouble  is  built." 

"  And  you  came  to  see  me,  and  to  tell  me  about  it,  that 
I  may,  if  possible,  remove  the  foundation,  so  that  your 
trouble  shall  tumble  to  its'  own  destruction  ?" 

"  I  came  for  that  express  purpose.  But  before  I  can 
ask  you  to  befriend  me  in  the  new  phase  which  my  difficul 
ties  have  assumed,  I  must  tell  you  of  a  fact  in  my  history 
which  involves,  not  only  the  cause  of  my  present  trouble, 
but  a,  feature  of  humanity,  which  feature  few  men  regard 
differently  from  myself,  but  which,  to  you,  may  present  an 
insuperable  objection  to  the  extension  of  your  sympathy." 

"  Tell  me  all,"  said  Mr.  Hope  "  I  can  then  be  the 
better  friend  and  counselor." 

"  Have  you  ever  imagined,"  asked  Cassel,  with  an  al 
most  rigid  face,  "  who  it  was  that  slew  Jonas  Aiken  ?" 

Without  an  instant's  hesitation,  the  old  minister  re 
plied. — 

"The  brother  of  Diana  Rapid  slew  him." 

"  That  is  the  truth,"  said  Cassel,  firmly  ;  "  and  the  fact 
that  you  divine  it  so  readily,  proves  in  your  own  correct 
heart  that  I- ought  to  have  slain  him." 

"  Thou  shalt  not  kill."  was  Mr.  Hope's  reply. 

Cassel  looked  into  Mr.  Hope's  face,  long  and  earnestly. 


P08  TEKEL, 

Then,  in  a  tone  which  fulmined  through  the  old  minister's 
breast,  he  said, — 

"Man  mocks  the  earth  with  his  laws  and  licenses. 
"t)iana  Rapid  was  purer  than  the  drop  of  dew  on  Vesta's 
morning  wreath.  Hell  came  upon  her;  and  where  is  my 
young  sister  now?  Mouldering  in  the  lonely  soil  of  a 
Western  wild,  where  hymns  are  never  sung  and  prayers 
are  never  heard.  Ob,  what  a  life  was  in  her  bosom,  to  be 
quenched  and  polluted  by  this  fiend  of  hell !"  The  brother's 
eyes  gushed  with  tears,  and  his  breast  heaved.  Presently 
he  continued:  "  She  had  a  lover, — a  noble  boy.  Where 
is  he  ?  Rotting  in  the  trenches  of  the  Crimean  dead.  Have 
I  sinned  ?  I  do  not  claim  it  as  a  godly  act,  for  I  am  no  god. 
I  do  not  feel  that  I  am  guilty.  I  have  never  felt  so.  I  hold 
fast  to  this  deed  of  puny  retribution  and  justice,  as  you 
yourself  cling  to  the  good  deeds  of  your  life.  -But  tell  me, 
my  revered  friend  and  father,  if  this  act,  which  my  whole 
life  will  sanction,  and  the  recent  knowledge  of  which  causes 
Cora  to  regard  me  as  a  murderer,  bars  me  from  your  sym 
pathy  and  aid?" 

"  Christ  would  not  have  done  it,  my  son." 

"Ay,  but  would  you  have  done  it?" 

"  Christ  would  not  have  done  it,"  repeated  the  old  min 
ister,  mildly. 

"  Nor  would  the  Angel  of  the  bottomless  pit  have  barely 
done  what  that  wretch  failed  not  to  do.  If  reeking  Evil 
must  needs  stalk  the  earth,  whenever  it  crosses  my  path 
I'll  assault  it  in  the  teeth  of  every  law  that  pusillanimous 
demagogues  may  dare  to  fashion.  I'm  an  outlaw  in  the 
eyes  of  dastard  codes,  and  I  thank  God  for  the  spirit  which 
makes  me  such." 

"Tempt  me  no  more,  my  son.  I  am  but  an  old  man, 
and  the  fire  of  my  blood  is  quenched." 

"  Moses  slew  an  Egyptian  for  a  lesser  crime.  Brutus 
killed  Caesar  for  a  lesser  crime.  Cromwell  killed  Charles 
for  a  lesser  crime.  Washington,  the  rightful  nonpareil  of 
men,  killed  Andre,  hung  him,  for  a  lesser  crime.  And 
millions  have  been  slaughtered  by  wars  and  laws  for 
crimes  which  pale  before  this  wretch's  triple  work." 

"  Urge  me  no  more,  my  dear  boy.  Speak  no  more  of 
it  now.  I  will  seek  God,  and  to-morrow  I  will  bring  you 
tidings." 


OR    CORA    GLEN  COS. 


409 


"But  you  must  understand,"  said  Cassel,  "that  Cora 
winessed  the  act;  that  she  considers  it  a  cold-blooded  mur 
der;  and  has  just  learned  that  I  did  the  deed,  but  does  not 
know  why  I  did  it.  All  I  desire  is  that  she  shall  thor 
oughly  understand ;  after  which,  if  she  frowns  upon  me, 
I  would  not  snap  my  finger  for  her  smile.  I  would  disdain 
to  touch  the  hand  of  any  girl  or  woman  who  would  not 
justify  me." 

"  In  the  morning,  Cassel,"  repeated  the  old  minister, 
"  I  will  bring  you  tidings." 

Cassel  waited  patiently  and  hopefully  until  the  next  day. 
His  conversation  with  Mr.  Hope  had  relieved  him,  and  he 
felt  much  more  at  ease,  for  be  saw  that  the  good  man  was 
with  him,  and  trusted  that  Cora,  in  the  purity  of  her  youth, 
would  be  as  chivalrous  and  independent  as  was  the  minis 
ter  in  the  purity  of  his  age.  • 

On  the  morrow  when  the  minister  met  Cassel,  his  greet 
ing  was,  cheerfully, — 

"  My  son,  in  a  few  days  I  go  to  Philadelphia." 

Cassel's  heart  bounded.  He  knew  what  it  meant,  and 
half  of  his  anxiety  and  care  was  expelled.  Cassel  had 
hoped  much,  but  not  quite  so  much  as  this.  He  replied, — 

"  But,  my  dear  sir,  is  it  necessary  for  you  to  take  upon 
yourself  this  weary  journey  ?  Can  you  not  write  ?  If  you 
desire  it  I  will  be  your  amanuensis." 

"  No,  Cassel,  I  could  neither  write  nor  dictate  all  that  I 
would  say  to  her ;  and  I  am  certain  that  the  impropriety 
of  my  having  an  amanuensis  at  all  in  this  matter,  and  espe 
cially  for  it  to  be  Cassel  Rapid,  has  escaped  your  percep- 
tives.  A  little  jostling  will  probably  not  hurt  the  old  joints 
in  me,  and  recreation  may  do  me  good." 

When  this  brave  old  veteran  of  the  Cross  started  upon 
his  weary  and  peculiar  mission,  Cassel  accompanied  him 
during  the  days  of  toilsome  cart-road  travel  which  it  was 
necessary  to  endure  before  they  could  reach  a  railroad  sta 
tion,  making  him  as  comfortable  as  possible,  and  caring 
for  him  with  ceaseless  assiduity.  Cassel  would  remain  at 
the  station,  take  charge  of  the  carriage  and  horses,  and 
await  Mr.  Hope's  return. 

The  old  minister  arrived  safely  in  Philadelphia,  and 
Cora's  sad  heart  was  surprised  into  temporary  joy  at  the 

35 


TEKEL, 

unexpected  but  welcome  presence  of  her  dear  old  guardian 
and  friend.  But  her  aching,  active  sorrow  soon  smote 
utfon  her  joy,  beating  it  down  and  utterly  away.  Mr. 
ifope's  breast  was  scourged  with  anguish  at  sight  of  Cora, 
pale,  hopeless,  and  almost  silent,  while  her  desperate  dark 
eyes  appeared  to  avoid  the  intelligence  of  his  glance.  De 
liberating  in  his  own  mind,  the  minister  changed  his  orig 
inal  plan.  The  next  day,  Cassel,  at  the  lonely  station, 
received  the  following  note : 

"  MY  DEAR  BOY, — Go  back  to  Creswood,  but  leave  the 
carriage  and  horses  at  the  station.  I  will  start  for  home 
to-morrow,  and  Cora  is  coming  with  me.  I  have  not 
spoken  to  her  yet  in  your  behalf,  and  will  not  do  so  until 
we  arrive  at  Creswood.  I  think  I  am  doing  for  the  best. 
You,  of  course,  cannot  be  my  guest  while  Cora  is  with  me, 
unless  I  can  prevail^  upon  her  to  give  you  the  welcome. 
You  had  better  go  down  to  Gale  Island  and  remain  there. 
1  will  act  speedily  and  notify  you." 

"Your  friend, 

"  ST.  JOHN  HOPE." 

Although  Mr.  Hope's  note  did  not  change  the  status  of 
affairs,  Cassel  was  encouraged.  He  went  back  to  Cres 
wood  and  to  Gale  Island.  Captain  Gale,  who  had  been  in 
port  for  some  time,  was  making  ready  for  a  short  cruise. 
He  invited  Cassel  to  take  a  saiUwith  him.  Cassel  accepted 
the  invitation  with  pleasure  and  purpose.  He  would  get 
himself  clean  out  of  the  way,  and  relieve  the  situation  of 
whatever  suspicion  Cora  might  have  entertained  that  pre 
meditation  was  decoying  her  down  to  Creswood  to  throw 
her  in  the  pathway  of  her  lover.  Cassel  was  a  pretty 
good  sailor,  and  no  mean  addition  to  the  crew  of  the 
Whitecap,  for  the  weather  was  warm  and  lazy,  and  the 
sympathetic  sailors  felt  warm  and  lazy  likewise. 

Garland  Hope  had  for  some  time  considered  himself  a 
success,  both  as  minister  and  educator, — so  much  so,  that 
he  had  induced  Rebecca  Ruthven  to  abridge  the  time  which 
should  elapse  before  each  should  make  the  other  perfectly 
happy.  Consequently,  they  were  to  be  married  the  com 
ing  autumn.  Rebecca  was  seventeen  years  of  age,  and  was 
fully  developed  into  a  woman.  What,  therefore,  was  the 
sense  or  utility  of  waiting?  She  was  entirely  free  from 


OR   CORA    OLENCOK. 

that  mercenary  spirit  so  common  to  the  safely-engaged 
girls  of  1870,  of  "  seeing  Life  "  before  taking  the  marriage- 
vows.  Now  what  does  this  "seeing  Life"  mean?  It 
does  not  mean  seeing  how  to  live!  But  it  means  that  a 
girl  who  feels  secure  of,  or  indifferent  to,  her  lover,  prefers 
first  to  expend  her  bloom  and  plumpness  in  all  sorts  of  dis 
sipation  and  the  devil  knows  what,  and,  having  broken 
herself  down,  become  literally  tired  out,  and  blase,  thei^ 
affectionately  to  surrender  herself,  a  withered  old  skin 
full  of  bones,  to  the  patient  fool  who  is  waiting  with  open 
arms  and  purse  to  receive  her.  She  will  spend  the  honey 
moon  in  his  arms  perhaps,  and  the  balance  of  the  moons 
in  his  purse,  perhaps  not. 

Rebecca  Ruthven  did  not  contemplate  going  to  her  lover 
looking  like  a  dried  herring  or  a  starved  heifer.  Her  love 
liness  was  mild  as  the  light  of  an  astral  lamp  ;  her  blonde 
beauty  and  voluptuous  figure  gave  her  an  appearance  at 
once  angelic  and  ravishing  ;  she  was  in  the  vigorous  dawn 
of  womanhood,  and  she  was  willing  to  give  herself  fresh 
to  Garland,  and  let  him,  her  lover,  gather  the  bloom  from 
her  cheek,  instead  of  brushing  it  off  in  giddy  contact  with 
a  superficial  non-repaying  world. 

Rebecca  was  not  as  intellectual  as  Cora  Glencoe,  nor 
was  she  as  exquisite  and  statuesque,  but  she  was  very 
sweet,  and  fair,  and  affectionate,  and  would  doubtless 
make  as  good  a  wife  as  Cora,  and  as  good  a  mother, 
which,  after  all,  constitute  the  chiefest  sources  of  happi 
ness  and  comfort  in  a  family.  Intelligence — mutual  intel 
ligence — is  essential  to  the  higher  joys  of  existence ;  but 
a  person  can  be  intelligent  without,  in  the  matter  of  intel 
lectual  culture,  having  ever  acquired  more  than  a  sound, 
symmetrical,  rudimental  scholarship,  reinforced  by  obser 
vation  and  instructive  reading.  For  what  is  more  disgust 
ing  or  malapropos  than  a  thoroughly  well-lettered  fool  ? 
or  what,  on  the  contrary,  is  more  agreeable  than  native  in 
telligence  allied  with  a  good  heart?  It  is  better  for  a 
woman  to  understand  how  to  dress  a  fowl,  or  a  man  how 
to  wield  an  axe,  than  for  either  of  them  to  be  able  to  dive 
out  of  sight  into  some  bottomless  question  of  science  or 
art, — the  science  of  government  for  instance,  or  the  polite 
art  of  torturing  an  unfortunate  piano. 


412  TEKEL, 

Rebecca's  education  was,  in  greater  part,  practical.  She 
anticipated  becoming  a  minister's  wife,  and  was  neither 
too  modest  nor  too  lazy  to  fit  herself  well  for  the  trying 
sphere.  And  she  bid  fair  to  be  as  amiable,  useful,  and 
well-ordered  a  helpmate  as  any  minister  or  plain  man  need 
want,  or  is  entitled  to. 

Garland  was  as  perfectly  satisfied,  and  as  serenely 
happy,  as  it  is  in  the  nature  of  mankind  to  be.  He  did 
not  see  a  single  cloud  in  his  sky  of  which  he  could  not  smil 
ingly  and  confidently  say,  Nebicula  est :  transibit.  His 
betrothed  was  all  that  he  desired  her  to  be,  and  his  way  in 
life,  pleasant  and  fruitful  now,  opened  yet  fairer  down  the 
vista.  His  experience  had  not  been  absolutely  painless, 
but  it  had  been  peaceful  and  full  of  purpose.  He,  like  all 
of  us,  met  with  occasional  brambles,  and  stumbled  here  and 
there  against  a  stone;  but  he  trusted  in  his  Religion  and 
his  Love,  and  always  rallied  to  his  either  trust,  instead  of 
railing  at  the  bramble  in  his  way  or  the  stone  at  his  foot. 

If  peace,  and  quiet  content,  and  unostentatious  happi 
ness  ever  rested  anywhere  in  this  world,  they  abided  with 
the  excellent  households  of  the  Hopes  and  the  Ruthvens. 
But  a  shaft  from  Hell  was  already  aimed  at  them.  Who, 
but  God,  can  catch  it  on  his  shield  ? 

A  few  days  after  the  Whitecap  sailed,  Johnny  Gale 
very  unexpectedly  arrived  at  Gale  Island.  Johnny  had 
improved  greatly,  both  in  appearance  and  manner,  and  had 
a  look  of  elegance  about  him  which  contrasted  well  with 
the  home-clad  denizens  of  Creswood.  On  his  arrival,  his 
mother  and  sister  Caddy  smothered  him  nearly  to  death 
two  or  three  times  before  they  could  let  him  alone. 

"  Is  the  old  man  in  port?"  asked  Johnny. 

"  What  old  man  ?"  asked  his  mother. 

"The  governor." 

"Johnny,  what  do  you  mean  !  For  whom  are  you  in 
quiring  ?'' 

<W  hy,  father,  of  course  !    Whom  do  you  reckon  ?"  and 
Johnny  looked  at  his  mother  with  impudent  amazement. 

"Did — you — ever!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Gale,  turning  to 
Caddy,  who,  like  her  mother,  was  astonished  at  the  enor 
mity  of  Johnny's  assurance 

Johnny  bolted  out  at  the  door,  went  around  the  house, 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  413 

stood  up  in  a  chimney  corner,  and  vented  one  of  the  most 
ticklish  suppressed  laughs  imaginable.  His  shoulders  shook 
up  and  down  for  a  full  minute.  He  then  returned  to  his 
mother  and  Caddy,  and  began  to  busy  himself  unpacking 
his  trunk  of  clothes.  Coming  to  a  pair  of  socks  with  holes 
in  the  heels,  he  turned  and  tossed  them  to  his  mother, 
saying,— 

"  There,  old  lady, — I  wish  you'd  darn  those  darned  socks 
for  me  " 

With  an  amazed  and  threatening  air,  Mrs.  Gale  got  up 
and  walked  over  to  her  son. 

"  John  Gale !  Is  this  the  sort  of  education  you  are  get 
ting  in  New  York  ?  You  needn't  laugh  so  ticklish,  sir,  or  I'll 
get  one  of  your  father's  rope's  ends  and  tickle  your  tail  for 
you,  big  as  you  are." 

Johnny  now  broke  out  into  an  open  roar,  while  Mrs. 
Gale  looked  at  him,  angry,  bewildered,  and  amused  in 
spite  of  herself. 

"  Ma,  he's  only  teasing  you, — he  don't  mean  it,"  cried 
Caddy,  while  Johnny  continued  to  roar. 

Mrs.  Gale,  thus  enlightened,  jumped  on  her  son,  and 
beat  him  with  motherly  blows  until  Johnny  put  his  arms 
about  her  and  squeezed  the  tears  out  of  her  eyes. 

"  Mother,"  said  Johnny,  as  soon  as  he  could  command 
his  voice,  "  when  the  '  old  man'  comes  home,  don't  you 
tell  him  ;  I  want  to  try  it  on  with  him, — just  for  fun." 

"  You  try  that  with  your  father,  and  he'll  buckle  you 
down  and  spank  you,"  replied  Mrs.  Gale,  with  a  laughing 
threat. 

"He's  not  'old  man'  enough  for  that,"  said  Johnny, 
saucily. 

"  Yes  he  is,  sir, — old  and  young  enough  too." 

Mrs.  Gale  was  as  proud  of  her  husband's  stalwart 
strength  as  she  was  of  her  son's  good  looks  and  promise. 

"  Johnny,"  said  Caddy,  "  what  brought  you  down  so 
suddenly,  and  without  any  notice  ?" 

"  Nothing  sudden  about  it.  I  have  not  been  here  for 
months.  And  what's  the  use  of  a  notice  ?  You  wouldn't 
make  any  preparation  for  me  if  I  were  to  give  you  a  fort 
night's  warning  and  come  in  a  coach-and-six." 

"  Preparation  indeed  !  We  are  always  prepared  for  you, 
35* 


414  TEKEL, 

you  young  buffalo,"  said  Mrs.  Gale.  "  But  I  can  tell  you, 
Caddy,  what  brought  him  down  so  like  a  thief  in  the  night. 
He  has  come  ^o  ask  his  mother  if  he  may  marry  that  young 
widow  up  in  New  York." 

"No,  I'll  be  smashed  if  I  have,"  protested  Johnny, laugh 
ing  and  blushing,  and  asserting  his  independence.  "  That's 
one  of  the  things  which  I  intend  to  do — or  not,  without 
anybody's  yea  or  nay  but  hers.  Remember,  mother,  I'll 
soon  be  twenty-one." 

"  And  much  of  a  man  you'll  be,  you  great  booby  of  a 
boy,"  laughed  his  mother.  "  Think  of  him,  Caddy,  with  a 
wife.  It  will  be  like  a  young  gander  housing  with  a  pullet." 

"More  like  a  giant  nursing  a  doll,"  said  Caddy. 

"  Or  an  elephant  fumbling  with  a  mouse,"  rejoined 
Johnny,  helping  them  along.  "  But  whatever  it  is  like, 
I  expect  to  like  it." 

"  You'll  have  to,  whether  you  do  or  not,"  said  Mrs. 
Gale,  while  Caddy  laughed  at  the  Irish  bull  of  which  her 
mother  was  guilty. 

Is  it  to  be  supposed  that  Johnny  Gale,  an  open,  headlong, 
and  unguarded  youth,  was  going  to  wait  six  months — 
notwithstanding  Cassel  Rapid's  injunction  to  that  effect, 
and  Johnny's  promised  submission — before  he  leveled  his 
gun  and  popped  the  question  at  Linda  ?  Whoever  has  sup 
posed  such  a  thing  is  an  egregious  failure.  Johnny  did 
not  intend  to  break  his  promise  to  Cassel ;  but  it  will  be 
remembered  that  there  is  a  certain  well-ordered  place, 
w,hich,  for  economy  and  convenience,  makes  its  pavements 
of  intentions — good  intentions  at  that.  Johnny  conscien 
tiously  meant  what  he  had  promised,  and  contemplated 
"  holding  his  horses"  until  the  six  months  should  expire, 
and  possibly  for  a  day  or  two  over,  to  make  good  count. 
But  Linda  was  so  very  bewitching,  and  Johnny  was  such 
an  awkward  hand  at  holding  back,  and  the  girl-widow 
once  gave  him,  as  he  conceived,  such  a  winning  chance 
to  rush  ahead,  and  he  was  so  well  in  remembrance  of  the 
old  adage  "now  or  never^'  that  he  let  all  "holts"  go,  his 
team  ran  away  with  him,  and  he  found  himself  lauded 
and  sprawling,  with  all  the  ticklish  foolery  of  the  love 
that  was  in  him  overgushing  at  Linda's  feet. 

"  But  I  will  not  give  you  an  answer,  you  great  giant  of 


OR    CORA    GLENCOE.  415 

a  good  fellow,"  insisted  the  blushing,  laughing,  delighted, 
and  coying  Linda,  "until  I  have  seen  my  brother  Cassel," 
and  Johnny  was  compelled  to  gather  himself  up,  and  ac 
cept  the  situation  until  brother  Cassel  could  be  consulted. 

Meantime,  a  little  frightened,  he  determined  to  see 
brother  Cassel  himself,  and  to  see  him  first ;  for  that 
excessively  important  individual  might  take  it  into  his 
head  to  come  down  upon  him  heavily  for  disregarding 
his  strict  injunction  and  outstripping  the  expiration  of 
the  agreed  probation.  He  would  go  see  brother  Cassel 
then,  who,  to  his  growing  fears,  began  to  loom  up  more 
terrible  than  any  castle  he  had  ever  read  of  in  any  child's 
book  of  legends. 

That,  and  nothing  else,  was  what  brought  Johnny  Qale 
down  to  Creswood  He  had  not  come  because  he  loved 
his  father,  or  his  mother,  or  his  sister, — which  he  did, — 
but  because  he  loved  Linda  Boyd,  and  Cassel  was  the 
arbiter  of  his  fate,  and  Cassel  was  supposed  to  be  at  Cres 
wood. 

"  By  Juggernaut,"  was  Johnny's  constant  apprehen 
sion,  "  it  will  never  do  to  let  him  discover  from  anybody 
else  but  me,  that  I  have  stolen  a  march  on  him  in  his 
absence." 

Pretty  soon  Johnny  inquired  if  Cassel  was  in  the  neigh 
borhood,  and,  almost  afraid  to  meet  him  after  coming  so 
"frantic  and  far"  for  that  express  purpose,  learned, 'some 
what  to  his  momentary  relief,  that  he  had  put  to  sea  on 
the  Whitecap. 

"  How  I  would  like  to  be  with  him !"  exclaimed  Johnny, 
inadvertently. 

"  Well,"  said  Caddy,  pertinently  and  pertly,  "  that  is 
saying  a  good  deal  for  him  and  very  little  for  us.  You 
have  been  with  him  for  months,  and  now  that  you  are 
here,  at  home,  with  your  mother  and  sister,  you  must 
still  be  pining  after  Mr.  Rapid.  I  thank  you,  sir ;  very 
kindly,  sir." 

Mrs.  Gale  looked  to  Johnny  for  an  explanation. 

"  But  now  that  I've  seen  you  all,  here,  I  want  to  see 
father,"  was  Johnny's  very  lame  excuse  ;  "  and  you  know, 
Caddy,  how  I  always  loved  to  sail  ?" 

"  B"ut,  son,"  interposed  the  mother,  humorously,  "  tell  us 
about  that  Mrs.  Bovd." 


416  TEKEL, 

"Oh,  she's  the  sty  of  my  eye,"  replied  the  blushing 
young  Hercules. 

"  But  are  you  the  sty  of  her  eye  ?"  asked  Caddy. 

"  She  says  I'm  a  good  fellow,  and  referred  me,"  an 
swered  Johnny,  putting  a  fun-face  upon  it. 

"  I  hope,"  said  Caddy,  who  was  something  of  a  plague, 
"  that  she  did  not  refer  you  to  '  Uncle  Jesse,'  for  Mr. 
Rapid  says  that  Uncle  Jesse  stands  no  nonsense." 

"  He  will  have  to  stand  a  devil  of  a  sight  of  it  if  he 
expects  to  stay  in  my  family,"  and  at  this  conceit  Johnny 
fairly  roared  with  laughter. 

"  Johnny,"  said  Mrs.  Gale,  severely,  "  never  do  you  use 
such  a  word  as  '  devil'  in  the  presence  of  your  mother 
again." 

'  Nor  anywhere  else,"  added  Caddy. 

'No — nor  anywhere  else,"  agreed  Mrs.  Gale. 

'  Did  I  say  '  devil'  ?" 

'  Yes,  you  did,"  spoke  up  Caddy. 

'I  declare  I  was  not  aware  of  it.  I  beg  pardon  all 
around." 

"  I  would  rather  you  had  been  aware  of  it,"  said  Mrs. 
Gale.  "  Not  being  so,  argues  that  you  are  so  accustomed 
to  the  use  of  such  words  that  you  do  not  know  when  they 
escape  you." 

"  No,  mother;  it  is  because  I  feel  so  free  here." 

"  Never  get  so  free  anywhere,  my  son,  as  to  lose  respect 
for  your  mother." 

"  Never  indeed,  mother.  When  I  lose  respect  for  you 
I  hope  to  go  to  the  dev " 

"  Hold,  Johnny !"  cried  the  wide-awake  Caddy,  spring 
ing  up.  "  Ma,  he  was  just  going  to  say  the  very  same 
thing  over  again  !" 

Johnny  ran  out  of  the  house  and  rolled  in  the  grass. 
He  felt  some  inward  reproach,  but,  at  the  idea  of  inad 
vertently  suffering  the  identical  offense  to  return  and  kick 
the  heels  of  his  apology  he  couldn't  suppress  that  ticklish 
laugh  which  lived  in  him.  He  went  back  to  fib  out  of  his 
difficulty.  He  protested  that  he  meant  to  wish  himself 
"to  the  dogs,"  but  that  Caddy's  reprehensible  practice  of 
interrupting  him  had  not  allowed  him  to  finish  what  he 
had  intended  to  sav. 


OR   CORA    OLENCOE.  417 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII.   . 

CORA  was  again  at  Creswood,  among  the  scenes  of  her 
earliest  recollections.  What  a  melancholy  attachment  pos 
sessed  her  for  Creswood,  with  its  hills,  and  abysses,  its 
strands  and  familiar  places  !  Cliff  Hall  was  now  her  own. 
Oswald  Huron  had  left  it  to  her  in  his  will,  and  although 
he  was  known  to  have  been  fitfully  insane,  and  although 
the  will  would  not  have  been  admitted  to  probate,  or, 
being  admitted,  might  easily  have  been  overthrown, 
Neville  Huron,  the  legal  heir  and  representative  of  his 
brother,  confirmed  the  document,  and  gave  to  Cora  the 
entire  wealth  of  Cliff  Hall,  as  her  due  for  the  lonely  and 
painful  life  which  she  had  spent  there,  and  for  which  he, 
the  father,  was  in  a  measure  originally  responsible.  It 
was  a  valuable  and  desirable  hold,  but  Cora  had  earned  it, 
in  fee-simple,  with  her  dripping,  bitter  tears,  her  anguish, 
and  heartache,  and  solitary,  sad  songs  down  upon  the 
strand. 

After  resting  the  part  of  a  day  and  the  ensuing  night, 
Mr.  Hope  lost  no  time  in  holding  an  interview  with  Cora. 
He  could  not  bear  to  see  the  young  girl  so  bereft,  and 
would,  if  possible,  become  a  restoring  physician,  giving 
her  back  all  that  she  conceived  herself  to  have  lost.  His 
venerable  years  endowed  him  with  the  privilege  of  speak 
ing  freely,  and  sanctioned  the  propriety  of  Cora's  willing 
ness  to  listen.  He  told  Cora  of  Diana  Rapid :  of  her  cloud 
less  purity  and  loveliness  and  youthful  prospects.  Cora 
had  never  known  that  there  had  been  a  Diana  Rapid.  With 
a  solemn  grief  which  awed  the  young  girl,  he  then  told 
her  of  Diana's  fate.  Tears  coursed  their  way  down  his 
aged  cheeks.  He  spoke  slowly,  and  with  tremulous — al 
most  terrible,  earnestness.  Cora  sat  perfectly  still,  shed 
ding  no  tear,  and  giving  no  sign.  Her  stanch,  warm  heart 
was  frozen  in  its  fountains.  She  crept  to  the  old  minister's 
breast,  and  nestled  there  as  if  shielding  herself  from  some 


418  TEKEL, 

icy  wind,  while  shudder  after  shudder  swept  through  her 
body  from  head  to  foot. 

"  It  was  for  this — damnable  deed,  that  Cassel  slew  the 
spoiler."  The  old  minister  continued  to  speak  slowly  and 
impressively.  He  was  playing  no  part,  but  felt  and  doubly 
felt  all  that  he  said.  "  Such  blood  as  he  has  spilled  will 
never  stick  to  his  hand.  In  the  breast  of  that  boy  is  as 
noble  and  pure  a  heart  as  ever  beat.  His  arm  is  valiant 
against  lurking  Evil,  and  in  his  conscience  virtue  will 
always  triumph.  For  his  cause  he  has  faced  a  hundred 
deaths.  He  is  the  chief  among  thousands,  beautiful,  and 
brave,  and  worthy  to  be  loved,  as  /  love  him,  with  the 
whole  heart.  My  little  one " 

Cora  could  stand  it  no  longer.  She  sprang  wildly  from 
the  old  minister's  arms,  out  into  the  middle  of  the  room. 
Her  cheeks  were  flaming  hot  with  the  furious  rush  of  the 
pent  blood.  Her  eyes  blazed,  and  her  every  glance  was 
a  glance  of  fire.  Like  some  tempestuous,  tameless  thing, 
she  uttered  a  genuine  war-cry,  stamped  vehemently  upon 
the  floor,  and  fled  away.  The  old  minister  was  bewildered, 
but  he  was  too  infirm  to  follow  and  overtake  her.  He 
waited  for  her  to  return  to  him.  Half  an  hour  passed,  and 
Mr.  Hope  was  beginning  to  get  impatient.  He  heard  a 
light  step  coming  along  the  hall,  and  Cora,  calm  and  blush 
ing,  appeared  at  the  door. 

"  Come  here,  Cora." 

She  approached,  knelt  down,  and  rested  her  head  upon 
the  minister's  knee.  He  waited  for  her  to  speak.  With 
out  lifting  her  head  she  said, — 

"  And  you  would  have  Mr.  Rapid  and  myself  to  be 
friends  ?" 

"  That  is  what  I  wish.  I  knew  of  all  that  I  have  told 
you  before  I  placed  you  in  his  care  in  the  city  of  New 
York.  In  fact,  immediately  after  his  home  was  broken  up 
in  Texas,  I  corresponded  with  him  regularly,  and  was  the 
first  to  notify  him  that  his  foe  was  here  in  Creswood.  I 
solicit  no  more  from  you  than  I  grant  myself.  I  am  un 
reservedly  his  friend.  He  eats  at  my  table,  sits  by  my 
daughters,  and  associates  with  my  son." 

Cora,  not  yet  looking  up,  said, — 

"  You  have  been  my  father.     At  your  knee  I  learned  to 


OR   CORA    QLENCOE.  419 

pray.  I  have  always  contemplated  you  as  the  safe  link 
between  me  and  God.  I  know  that  you  are  venerable 
with  good  deeds  which  would  crowd  a  century  of  ordi 
nary  good  men's  lives.  It  cannot  be  that  we  are  both 
mistaken."  And  Cora  handed  up  to  the  old  minister  a  note. 
"  Here,"  said  she,  "  is  my  decision." 

"  What  is  here,  Cora  ?" 

"  Open  it  and  read,  and  then  transmit  it  to  Mr.  Rapid, 
for  I  know  not  where  he  is." 

Mr.  Hope  glanced  through  the  note,  which  was  a  model 
of  brevity,  and  read, — 

"  Mr.  Rapid, — Forgive  me.     I  am  wiser. — UORA." 

"  My  dear  child,"  said  Mr.  Hope  brightly,  "there  is  no 
balm  in  Gilead  like  this  for  his  earthly  troubles." 

Cora's  heart  again  trembled  with  tenderness  for  her 
lover.  A  mountain  had  been  heaved  from  her  bosom. 
The  blood  seemed  to  spangle  like  spray  of  ecstasy  through 
out  her  body,  and  tingle  at  her  very  fingers'  ends. 

"And  now,"  said  Mr.  Hope,  "  for  the  last  few  words 
which  either  of  us  need  ever  speak  upon  this  subject." 

The  old  minister,  after  talking  some  time,  concluded 
with  these  words : 

"Although  men  cannot  be  as  gods,  it  is  no  excuse  for 
them  to  be  as  devils.  It  is  better  that  all  the  sons  of  Beel 
zebub  on  earth  should  die  than  that  one  Diana  Rapid 
should  be  wrecked.  The  law  was  too  lame  even  to  catch 
this  Jonas  Aiken,  and  would  only  have  chastised  him  had 
it  caught  him.  Therefore  the  brother  made  a  law  unto 
himself  and  the  spoiler,  and,  in  its  execution,  wrote  Tekel 
against  the  statutes  of  his  country.  What  is  a  man's 
country  ?  Patriotically,  and  poetically,  it  is  a  broad  land, 
teeming  with  busy  millions.  Practically  it  is  his  Fireside. 
What,  then,  is  all  his  country  to  the  man  who,  suffering 
from  boundless  wrong,  can  only  sit  by  his  fireside  mourn 
fully,  and  watch  the  sparks  fly  upward  ?  I  venture  the 
assertion  that  there  is  not  a  proper  man  or  virtuous  woman 
in  America,  or  in  the  world,  in  whose  secret  heart  Cassel 
would  lack  justification.  My  little  girl  herself  would  have 
scorned  him,  had  he  done  other  than  what  he  did.  But  I 
am  not  now  attempting  to  justify  him,  but  myself,  as  a 
minister  of  the  gospel,  in  the  view  which  I  have  taken  of 


420  TEKEL, 

this  thing.  Neither  would  I  urge  this  view  from  the  pul 
pit,  for  it  might  eventually  lead  to  an  excess  of  violence 
— of  undue  violence,  under  other  heads  of  grievance.  The 
law  is  what  should  be  changed,  that  its  workings  may  har 
monize  with  the  genuine  sentiment  of  the  American  breast. 
Have  you  followed  my  meaning  ?" 

"  I  believe  I  have ;  and  yet,  you  feel  yourself  to  be  in  a 
dilemma,  and  that  I  shall  judge  you  as  not  quite  true  to 
the  gospel  which  you  have  preached  so  long.  But  from 
that  very  gospel,"  said  Cora,  smiling,  "  I  can  explain  your 
position  in  much  fewer  words  than  you  have  used." 

"  Let  mertiear  you,"  said  the  minister. 

"  Christ,  in  his  teachings,  eschewed  and  condemned  ty 
ranny;  but,  out  of  the  fish's  mouth,  himself  paid  tribute 
to  a  tyrant." 

"And  out  of  the  mouths  of  babes  and  sucklings  pro- 
ceedeth  wisdom,"  rejoined  the  old  minister,  patting  the 
young  girl's  cheek.  "  You  can  teach  me,  Cora.  I  am 
growing  old  and  feeble,  and  have  lost  my  logic  and  apti 
tude  of  thought." 

"  Mr.  Hope,"  asked  Cora,  "can  you  conjecture  why  it  is 
that  mankind  is  so  afflicted  ?" 

"  The  Lord  loveth  whom  he  chasteneth." 

"But  some  are  miserable  and  some  are  happy, — some 
are  born  Jilted  to  be  happy,  others  to  be  miserable,  with 
out  any  apparent  cause  for  the  distinction." 

"  That  is  an  argument  against  Universalism,"  replied 
the  old  minister,  "  which  maintains  that  an  all-merciful  and 
all-just  God  would  destroy  his  own  attributes  by  punish 
ing  his  own  creation.  This  world  is  an  existence,  as  truly 
as  will  be  the  future  world.  If,  therefore,  punishment  is 
visited  upon  us,  here,  in  an  apparently  indiscriminate  man 
ner,  for  the  same,  or  other  inscrutable  purposes,  punish 
ment  may  as  surely  be  visited  upon  us  beyond  the  grave, 
In  a  discriminate  manner.  But  do  not  tempt  me  to  preach 
you  one  of  my  old  sermons." 

Cora  mused  awhile,  and  then,  with  a  long,  deep  sigh, 
said,  as  if  to  herself, — 

"  How  infinitely  I  am  relieved.  I  was  in  a  total  and 
hopeless  eclipse." 

Cora  was  thinking  of  her  lover. 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  421 

"  But  now,  my  child,  I  trust  your  eclipses  have  passed 
over  and  away,  forever.  And  that  reminds  me,  Cora,  that 
to-morrow  afternoon  we  are  to  have  a  partial  eclipse  of  the 
sun.  Did  you  know  that  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir.  There  is  nothing  so  grand  or  suggestive  to 
me  as  an  eclipse.  Not  that  the  eye  can  see  so  much,  but 
the  mind  grasps  the  huge  and  wonderful  fact  that  it  is  the 
Supreme  Hand  which  is  placing  these  vast  worlds  in  the 
vaster  universe  with  greater  ease  and  precision  than  a  boy 
would  place  his  marbles  tit-tat-tow,  all  in  a  row." 

The  old  minister  smiled  at  Cora's  apt  illustration. 

"  Yes,"  said  he.  "  To  His  infinite  power,  worlds  are  as 
marbles  ;  and  to  His  infinite  glance,  the  planets  wheeling 
about  the  sun  are  as  fire-flies  circling  the  lamp.  But  did 
you  ever  read  Cooper's  description  of  a  Total  Eclipse  ?" 

"  Not  long  ago  I  read  it.  Although  I  never  saw  a  total 
eclipse,  I  am  satisfied  that  Cooper  has  given  a  due  and  ac 
curate  picture  of  the  grand  phenomenon."  Hesitating  a 
little,  with  a  faint  blush  and  half-diffident  eye,  Cora  asked, 
— "  Mr.  Hope,  will  you  laugh  at  me  if  I  tell  you  some 
thing  ?" 

"Yes,"  laughed  the  old  minister  in  advance,  "I  will,  if 
it  is  very  amusing." 

"  It  is  not  amusing  at  all, — but  it  may  be  very  laughable, 
nevertheless." 

"  Whatever  it  is,  Cora,  I  will  endeavor  to  treat  it  as  it 
deserves,"  replied  Mr.  Hope,  with  an  encouraging  look. 

"  You  remember,  when  I  was  quite  a  little  girl,  how  you 
exercised  us  in  the  class  which  you  called  '  Praise'?  We 
had  to  compose  hymns  and  praises." 

"  I  do, — and  I  also  remember  that  you  wrote  many  little 
verses  of  praise  and  petition,  which  Grod  must  have  re 
garded  as  a  tender  mother  regards  the  sweet  prattle  of  her 
child." 

"  I  can  hardly  realize  now,"  said  Cora,  "  how  pure  my 
heart  was  then,  and  how  near  I  felt  to  God,  when  writing 
my  little  verses  to  him. " 

"  Cora,  did  you  know  that  I  shed  tears  over  some  of 
them  ?" 

"  No  indeed,  Mr.  Hope  !     For  why  ?" 

"  Because  they  reflected  a  dreary,  desolate  childhood, 
36 


422  TEKEL, 

and,  in  their  simple  pathos,  breathed  an  exquisite  plaint, 
or  elegy,  which  went  to  my  heart  like  arrows  tipped  with 
fire." 

Cora  got  up  and  put  her  hands  half  caressingly  upon 
the  old  minister's  shoulders,  and  with  a  gaze  which  was 
rife  with  affection  and  just  a  little  saucy,  shook  him  play 
fully,  and  demanded, — 

"  Why  didn't  you  tell  me  then  that  you  loved  me  ?  I 
might  have  known  it  from  your  ceaseless  kindness,  but  I 
was  too  young  to  make  discoveries.  I  lived  through  all 
those  desperate  years  thinking  that  there  was  no  one  in 
the  wide  world  who  cared  for  me.  Ah,  dear!  how  deso 
late  I  was  in  yonder  Cliff  Hall,  with  none  but  my  fitful 
uncle." 

"  But  you  have  strayed  from  your  text,  Cora.  What 
was  it  that  I  am  to  laugh  at  which  vou  are  going  to  tell 
me?" 

"  Nay,  sir, — it  is  something  which  you  are  not  to  laugh 
at,"  protested  Cora,  merrily. 

"  Oh  ! — the  laugh  is  to  be  on  the  other  side  of  the 
mouth  !  Very  well, — I  am  ready  to  hear  you." 

"  I  have  dared  to  write  some  verses,"  said  Cora,  blushing 
most  charmingly.  " They  were  suggested  by  'Cooper's 
Eclipse,'  and  by  the  inquiry,  '  How  is  it  possible  for  man 
to  look  upon  the  wonders  of  Heaven  and  Earth  and  yet 
say, — there  is  no  God  ?'  Which,  you  are  well  aware, 
some  persons  do  say,  and  many  seem  to  think,  judging 
from  their  acts.  I  would  not  show  these  verses  to  a  living 
soul  but  you,"  added  Cora,  laughing;  "but  I  wish  you  to 
read  them  and  see  if  they  are  at  all  fit.  I  have  them 
with  my  little  souvenirs — in  my  trunk." 

"  Go  get  them." 

Cora  brought  the  manuscript,  and  sat  demurely,  while 
the  old  minister,  having  adjusted  his  spectacles,  critically 
read  the  young  girl's  effusion.  As  they  will  detain  the 
reader  but  a  few  moments,  we  introduce  the  verses  here, 
not  so  much  on  account  of  their  merit,  as  to  give  a  glimpse 
of  Cora's  mental  cast,  additional  to  what  may  have  been 
evolved  or  disclosed  thus  far  in  our  narrative. 


OR    CORA    CLENCOE.  423 


"IS    THERE  NO  GOD?" 

The  Fool  saith  in  his  heart — "  There  is  no  God ; 

That  Man  no  Maker  has,  but  withers  down 
To  tomb  like  grass — resolves  into  a  clod ; 

Reaping  on  Earth  what  he  on  Earth  has  sown." 

What  though  a  Summer  Evening's  pomp  bestow 

A  prouder  court  than  emperor  ever  trod, 
And  all  the  heavens  with  matchless  splendors  glow? 

The  Fool  saith  in  his  heart — "  There  is  no  God." 

What  though  the  whirlwinds  wrench,  and  wreck,  and  rave, 
And  cowering  Seas  are  scourged  as  with  a  rod, 

And  cowering  Hills  cry  out  to  the  whipt  wave? 
The  Fool  saith  in  his  heart — "  There  is  no  God." 

What  though  the  Sun  vouchsafes  the  goodly  Day, 

And  countless  worlds,  obedient  to  His  nod, 
Gem  the  far  Night  with  infinite  array  ? 

The  Fool  saith  in  his  heart — "  There  is  no  God." 

"  Let  there  be  Light,"  Jehovah  simply  said, 
And  from  His  glance  there  gathered  in  the  sky 

A  dazzling  fiery  Wonder  which  has  sped 
Its  ceaseless  way,  and  baffled  every  eye. 

A  lesser  Wonder  rolled  from  out  His  palm, 

And  put  its  silver  belt  about  the  Earth; 
Changefully  changeless,  'tis  as  sure  and  calm 

As  when  the  God  that  made  it  gave  it  birth. 

No  stranding  argosies  bestrew  the  sky, 

Or  crash  each  other  in  that  lawlike  realm; 
Obedient  to  the  First  Command  they  fly 

With  faultless  sail  and  still  unerring  helm. 

"Now  comes  the  Eclipse,"  said  Mr.  Hope,  smiling  at 
Cora,  while  she  turned  off,  askance-like,  that  he  might 
finish. 

Away,  up  in  the  heaven,  an  opaque  shield 
Superbly  wheels  the  Sun  and  Earth  between, 

Catching  the  sunlight  from  its  wonted  field, 
While  strange  untimely  shadows  supervene. 

Lo  !  like  a  hallowed  sheen  from  Paradise, 

Corona  crowns  the  errant  Queen  of  Night, 
And  while  from  wildered  Earth  awe-whispers  rise, 

Celestial  luster  plays  before  the  sight. 


424  TF.KEL, 

Man,  Beast,  and  Bird,  admit  the  viewless  Power 
Which  worketh  wonders  in  the  firmament, 

And  where  the  belt  of  undue  shadows  lower, 
A  superstition  and  a  Faith  is  blent. 


But  when  the  Sun  is  darkened  in  his  course, 
The  Fool  looks  up  and  mutters,  "  It  is  odd, — 

How  is  it  thus  that  Night  comes  on  perforce?" 
And  never  once  bethinks  him  of  a  God. 


"  Cora,"  said  Mr.  Hope,  looking  over  bis  spectacles,  "  I 
am  neither  a  poet,  nor  the  son  of  a  poet,  but  in  my  hasty 
judgment  this  is  very  good  At  all  events,  it  is  much  bet 
ter  than  I  am  able  to  do  myself,  and  I  shall  not  attempt 
to  criticise  it." 

Cora,  with  modest,  diffident  pleasure,  was  abashed.  Mr. 
Hope  continued, — 

"  It  is  very  difficult  to  compose  a  good  short  piece  of 
poetry.  There  is  not  sufficient  space  for  the  mind  to  gather 
impetus.  The  mind  is  something  like  the  bird,  the  horse, 
or  the  locomotive  :  a  certain  distance  must  be  traversed 
before  it  can  get  under  full  headway." 

"Your  comparison  is  apt,  when  speaking  of  Talent; 
but  Genius,  to  which  I  do  not  aspire,  is  like  the  lightning  ; 
its  first  leap — its  very  first  inch  of  flight,  is  at  high  speed." 

"  You,  then,  are  among  those  Avho  divide  talent  from 
genius, — rating  the  one  as  a  faculty  and  the  other  as  a 
gift.  Now,  it  is  as  difficult  to  tell  where  one  ends  and  the 
other  begins  as  it  is  to  run  a  line  between  the  blended 
yellow  and  orange  of  a  rainbow.  Genius  is  merely  a 
name  by  which  to  distinguish  the  highest  order  of  talent." 

"  The  space  between  them  might  then  be  compared  to 
the  space  between  tweedle-dum  and  tweedle-dee  ?"  laughed 
Cora. 

"  Just  so,"  replied  the  old  minister,  "  granting  that  you 
are  on  an  ascending  scale." 

"The  highest  notes,"  said  Cora,  "are  not  always  the 
sweetest." 

"  Nor  the  safest :  the  strings  are  more  apt  to  stretch  into 
discord,  or  snap  into  confusion." 

"  I  am  so  contented  with  your  estimate  of  niy  little  poem 
that  I  do  not  think  I  shall  ever  attempt  another." 


OR    CORA    GLENCOE.  425 

"  I  should  have  abused  it  and  put  you  on  your  mettle, 
as  the  Reviewers  did  Byron." 

"  All  the  abuse  in  the  world  would  neither  provoke  nor 
taunt  me  into  a  poetess." 

"  Wouldn't  you  enjoy  turning  rhymes  ?" 

"Aha! — but  can  one  extract  gold  from  granite?" 

"  By  no  means.     But  many  make  the  endeavor." 

"And  fail, — miserably  fail." 

"As  people  do  in  most  things  else." 

"  But  then  it  is  more  bitter,  is  it  not,  to  try  and  be  a  poet 
and  to  utterly  fail?" 

"  Because  rarely  do  any  ever  make  the  trial  but  the  sen 
sitive,  and  none  but  the  sensitive  ever  succeed." 

"  Those  who  are  so  quick  to  feel,"  said  Cora.  "And 
failure  bears  a  double  sting, — that  of  the  mere  intellectual 
bankruptcy,  and  the  still  more  venomous  one  of  rebuked 
presumption." 

"  True, — and  you,  Cora,  can  very  well  forbear  to  try,  for 
you  are  witching  enough  without  the  laureate  chaplet." 

"  Mr.  Rapid  told  me  once  that  you  never  flattered,"  ob 
served  Cora,  saucily. 

"  That's  more  than  he  can  aver  of  himself,  I  dare  say," 
replied  the  old  minister,  humorously. 

The  dinner-bell  now  warned  them  to  whet  their  appe 
tites,  and  the  interview  was  abruptly  closed  with  the  fol 
lowing  question  and  answer : 

''Cora,  why  did  you  leave  me  so  wildly;  in  the  very 
midst  of  our  conference  ?" 

"  Because  I  felt  like  War, — like  a  cannon,  charged  and 
red-hot  shotted  to  the  mouth,  impatient  to  burst  and  de 
stroy — the  Spoilers!" 


36* 


426  TEKKL, 


CHAPTER  XXXIX 

CORA  GLENCOE  and  Rebecca  Ruthven  had  always  been 
the  best  of  friends,  probably  from  the  circumstance  that 
they  were  different  in  character, — Cora  being  self-acting 
and  decisive,  and  Rebecca  being  mild  and  malleable. 

Rebecca  had  called  to  see  Cora,  just  after  her  interview 
with  Mr.  Hope  as  per  last  chapter,  and  on  the  morrow, 
the  day  of  the  sun's  eclipse,  Cora  was  to  go  over  to  old 
Mr.  Ruthven's,  some  half  a  mile  through  the  forest  from 
the  Parsonage,  and  she  and  Rebecca,  with  pieces  of  smoked 
glass,  would  seek  a  pleasant  spot  of  which  they  knew, 
just  half  way  between  the  Parsonage  and  Mr.  Ruthven's, 
where  they  would  chat,  view  the  eclipse,  chat  again,  and 
separate,  each  to  return  to  her  lodge. 

This  arrangement  had  been  made  at  the  instance  of  Re 
becca,  who  longed  to  unbosom  herself  to  Cora  in  respect 
to  her  maiden  anticipations  and  dreams  of  the  precious  de 
lights  which  awaited  her  just  behind  the  front  veil  of  the 
Future,  and  which  the  coming  autumn,  assisted  by  the 
young  minister,  would  shower  upon  her.  Cora's  own 
little  secrets  were  so  crude,  and  fresh,  that  she  felt  no  ap 
prehension  that  they  would  become  too  mellow,  or  spoil 
on  her  hands,  should  she  keep  them  locked  away  for  a 
season. 

After  dinner,  on  the  day  of  the  eclipse,  Cora,  with  her 
dog  companion,  which  Mr.  Hope  had  cared  for  since  the 
death  of  Oswald  Huron,  and  which  remembered  the  young 
mistress  well  enough,  started  through  the  forest  for  Re 
becca's  home,  guided  by  a  foot-path  here  and  there  almost 
choked  up  by  the  summer  growth  of  twigs  and  bordering 
shrubs. 

The  spot  where  they  were  to  take  their  celestial  observa 
tions  was  a  knoll,  bare  of  trees,  rocky,  and  patched  with 
grass  and  moss.  It  was  called  White  Mound,  and  afforded 
a  view  of  the  sky,  spacious  enough  for  their  astronomical 
purposes. 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  427 

Cora,  out  in  the  wildwood,  where  her  voice  and  footstep 
might  claim  elfin  freedom,  was  very  happy.  She  had  just 
sent  a  salvia  to  her  lover,  and  soon  would  he  come  to 
her.  She  tripped  along,  agile  as  the  chamois  doe,  singing 
snatches  of  forest  glees,  mocking  the  birds,  catching  at 
flowering  woodbines,  racing  with  her  dog,  and  indulging  in 
every  little  jaunty  air  and  motion  which  prudery  frowns 
upon.  None  but  her  dog,  however,  saw  her  garter,  or  eyed 
the  tricksy  dash  of  her  pretty  foot,  as  she  rioted  in  the 
luxury  of  the  new  and  joyous  life  which  had  come  upon  her. 

When  she  reached  the  half-way  spot,  she  found  Rebecca 
there  in  advance  of  her,  seated  and  waiting.  Rebecca  had 
become  impatient,  for  she  had  "  something  sweet  to  tell." 

"Why,  Becky!"  cried  Cora,  "am  I  tardy?" 

"No, — it  is  I  that  am  early.  I  thought  I  would  meet 
you,  instead  of  waiting  for  you  at  home." 

"But  I  wanted  to  see  your  mother  and  your  grandpa." 

"  You  can  see  them  another  time.  To-day  I  wish  to 
have  you  all  to  myself." 

Cora  sat  down  on  the  grass.  She  soon  perceived  Re 
becca's  drift,  and  encouraged  her  in  the  way  she  wished 
to  go.  Rebecca,  by  degrees,  unlocked  her  full  bosom,  and 
Cora  saw,  in  the  midst  of  it, — in  the  holy  of  holies, — 
the  image  of  Garland  Hope.  She  met  Rebecca's  confidence 
with  intelligent  sympathy;  played  upon  her  just  as  she 
wished  to  be  played  upon  ;  and  teased  her  just  as  she 
longed  to  be  teased. 

Rebecca  was  full  of  joy. 

Cora,  through  her  smoked  glass,  glanced  momentarily 
at  the  sun.  Presently  she  cried, — 

"  Becky  ! — look ! — the  eclipse  is  at  hand  ;  the  moon  is 
just  upon  the  edge  of  the  sun.  There  is  the  power  and 
precision  of  the  Creator  !" 

A  low,  deep  growl  from  the  dog  caused  them  to  turn 
about.  Terror !  Dismay  !  aha !  impotent  are  all  the  tongues 
on  earth  to  supply  that  word  of  unlimited  import  and  give 
a  name  to  the  fearful  thing  which  swept  into  the  souls  of 
these  young,  helpless  virgins,  as  out  of  the  thicket  two 
jungle  demons  sprang  and  rushed  upon  them.  In  a  moment 
Rebecca  Ruthven  was  dragged  into  the  thicket,  and  Cora, 
with  the  desperate  strength  of  a  captured  gazelle,  was 


428  TEKEL, 

struggling  and  writhing  and  shrieking  in  the  grasp  of  Pol 
lution.  The  mastiff,  with  a  savage  bark,  rose  to  the  rescue 
of  his  mistress,  and  tore  the  enemy  with  fierce  fangs. 
Cora  was  freed.  Wild  with  terror  she  sped  away,  leaving 
the  dog  and  demon  struggling  on  the  ground,  while  the 
shrieks  of  the  lost  Rebecca  Ruthven  lent  wings  to  her 
feet.  She  burst  into  the  Parsonage  like  a  pallid  messen 
ger  fresh  from  the  throne  of  Panic.  Mr.  Hope  and  Gar 
land  hastened  to  her. 

"  Go! — to  the  White  Mound! — Rebecca! — Hell  is  there  ! 
— great  God  for  a  thunderbolt !"  and  she  stamped  her  feet 
in  the  fury  of  her  excitement. 

Mr.  Hope  sank  down,  an  impotent  old  man  Like  a 
wild  stag  Garland  rushed  away,  only  to  look  upon  the 
ashes  of  all  his  hopes.  Coming  upon  the  spot,  he  saw  the 
faithful  dog,  ripped  open  by  a  knife  blade,  and  gasping  in 
the  throes  of  death.  Searching  swiftly,  he  found  the 
sweetest  flower  of  his  holiest  heart,  pale,  lifeless,  and 
abased  with  the  doom  that  was  sealed  upon  her.  Like 
an  angelic  ruin  she  lay  along  the  ground,  limp  from  the 
stroke  of  Satan.  As  Garland  Hope  stood  over  his  ravished 
love  and  gazed  down  upon  her,  what  was  it  that  over 
whelmed  and  congealed  his  breast  ?  Was  it  sorrow  ?  No. 
Was  it  pain  ?  No.  Was  it  agony  ?  No  !  Poverty  of 
my  mother  tongue,  where  is  the  gigantic  word  that  will 
tell  me  what  it  was,  that  I  may  score  it  upon  the  hearts 
and  stamp  it  upon  the  foreheads  of  the  living,  and  strike 
it  into  the  tombstones  of  the  dead  ? 

And  ah,  the  broken  virgin !  Think  of  the  extreme  mo 
ment  when  her  all  of  life  and  hope  and  joy  was  shattered  to 
atoms  while  in  the  grasp  of  one  whose  lightest  word  was 
terror  and  whose  kiss  was  death.  Would  that  I  could 
gather  all  the  shrieks,  and  cries,  and  moans,  and  slogans 
of  revolt  which  have  startled  and  rent  the  air  since  the 
world  began,  put  them  into  one  vast  crucible  and  reduce 
them  to  a  single  white-hot  word !  With  it  I  would  tell  the 
tale  of  Diana  Rapid  and  Rebecca  Ruthven.  I  would  write 
it  upon  the  brows  of  my  countrywomen,  as  a  damning  re 
proach  upon  our  lawgivers  and  the  chivalry  of  men.  A 
few  years,  forsooth,  of  strict,  safe,  and  wholesome  labor, 
to  balance  all  this  misery  and  coal-black  infamy! 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  439 

When  Cora,  by  ministering  to  the  stricken  old  man  be 
side  her,  had,  in  a  measure,  forced  herself  into  necessary 
calmness,  in  view  of  the  confidence  which  had  recently 
passed  between  them,  she  ventured  to  ask,  what  punish 
ment  the  law  would  visit  upon  the  Spoiler  for  blasting  the 
life  of  the  guileless  Rebecca,  and  turning  the  peaceful,  joy 
ful  houses  of  Hope  and  Ruthven  into  habitations  of  woe. 

"  The  farce  which  usually  follows  the  tragedy,"  replied 
the  old  minister  feebly,  "  a  term  in  prison, — I  know  not 
its  duration,  so  subject  is  it  to  abridgment." 

"  It  should  be  death  /"  said  Cora,  sternly,  and  stamping 
her  foot  as  if  spurning  the  law;  and  as  she  thought  of  Re 
becca,  she  cried  out,  with  vehement  intensity,  "  Oh,  it 
should  be  death — a  thousand  times  DEATH  !"  and  her 
bands  clinched  and  her  eyes  blazed  with  revolt. 

Cora  was  never  fitful,  frivolous,  or  blindly  passionate, 
but  a  girl  of  disciplined  mental  strength  and  fortitude, 
trained  to  hardship  and  self-command,  and  accustomed 
to  speak  from  reason  rather  than  emotion.  When,  there 
fore,  she  said  it  should  be  death,  she  not  only  felt  it  through 
every  fiber,  but  thought  it  in  mind  and  soul  and  every 
faculty  of  intelligence  and  judgment. 

But  who  can  go  into  the  once  peaceful  cottage  and  pla 
cid  life  of  the  Ruthvens,  and  tell  of  the  heart-breaking 
scene  which  followed,  when  Rebecca,  piteously  moaning, 
was  borne  in,  and  with  constrained  solemnity  placed,  like 
a  defiled  but  still  sacred  image,  upon  a  chaste  white  couch ! 
Let  everlasting  woe  be  unto  the  soul  which  does  not  pity 
and  double  pity  her !  and  let  a  blacker  doom,  if  can  be, 
come  upon  him  who  would  withhold  his  voice  and  vote 
from  justice,  simple  justice — which  is  death  !  Yes,  death  ! 
we  do  not  fear  to  say  it,  and  repeat  it,  and  ring  it  aloud. 
If  demons  elect  themselves  to  die,  let  them  die — and  let 
good  men  and  chaste  women  live. 

The  grandfather  and  the  mother  had  not  known  of  this 
terrible  blast  upon  their  house  and  name  until  they  saw 
their  broken  child  and  jewel  brought  in  before  them.  Mrs. 
Ruthven 's  lungs  were  constitutionally  weak.  This  sudden 
stoop  of  agony,  shame,  and  horror  sent  the  panic-stricken 
blood  surging'through  her  bosom,  breaking  its  boundaries, 
and  gushing  from  her  mouth.  She  fell  across  the  couch 


430  TF.KEL, 

on  which,  like  a  pallid  wreck,  her  sweet,  young,  only 
daughter  lay.  The  white-haired,  tottering-  grandfather, 
whose  honest  pride  and  every  hope  was  centered  in  his 
grandchild,  in  whom  he  blossomed  anew,  reeled  like  an 
aged  oak  uprooted  by  a  descending  thunder-shaft,  his 
heart  burst  within  him  at  the  clash  of  his  calamity,  and  he 
fell  headlong  to  the  floor,  a  spent,  rifted,  and  lifeless  thing 
of  clay.  He  was  dead.  Tragedy  was  there,  in  that  once 
peaceful,  hopeful  cottage,  more  deep,  blood-red,  and  rend 
ing,  than  ever  pressed  down  upon  the  couch  of  Desde- 
mona. 

Where  was  Garland  Hope  ? 

Out  in  the  woods,  the  young  minister  was  stretched 
along  the  ground,  like  some  prone  and  rigid  statue  cast 
upon  its  face,  and  impotent  to  move. 

Creswood  was  chilled  as  by  an  overshadowing  winter- 
cloud  shuddering  and  shaking  down  its  frosty  rime.  Then 
came  the  reaction,  and  swift,  bold  feet  traversed  the  hills 
and  glens  of  the  forest,  and  stern  men  stood  guard  to  in 
tercept  the  Spoiler.  But  more  of  this  anon. 

The  days  passed  gloomily  away.  Cora,  in  grief  herself, 
but  surrounded  by  a  family  steeped  in  the  gall  of  bitter 
ness,  spent  the  most  of  her  time  alone.  She  went  out  one 
morning  into  the  orchard,  then  to  the  pasture,  which  was 
near  the  house,  and  climbed  up  on  the  fence.  She  sat 
there  looking  at  the  animals  peacefully  grazing,  or  quietly 
reposing  in  the  shade  of  the  scattered  trees. 

Not  far  from  where  she  sat,  she  saw  a  pale  horse 
stretched  in  the  shade..  Cora  shouted.  The  horse  raised 
his  head,  and  looked  around.  Seeing  Cora,  he  got  up, 
shook  himself,  and  woke  up  the  hills  with  his  clarion  neigh, 
clear  and  reverberating  as  the  peal  of  a  silver  trumpet 
With  a  proud  and  imperial  step,  he  slowly  approached  the 
young  girl.  Cora,  forgetting  the  fierce  temper  of  the  stal 
lion,  having  recognized  him  as  the  rapid  favorite  of  her 
Rapid  lover,  got  down  from  the  fence  and  went  out  to  meet 
him,  by  which  indiscreet  action  she  put  her  life  in  jeopardy. 
The  horse  came  up  to  her  and  rubbed  his  head  against  her 
shoulder,  with  low,  soft  whinnies.  Cora  caressed  him, 
and  laid  her  cheek  againt  his  velvet  jaw.  She  felt  in  her 
pocket  and  drew  out  a  little  paper  of  salt.  She  had  been 


OR    CORA    GLENCOE.  431 

in  the  orchard  eating  apples  and  salt,  after  the  manner  of 
girls.  She  emptied  the  salt  into  her  palm,  and  the  horse 
ravenously  licked  it  away.  He  then  begged  for  more,  but 
she  had  no  more  to  give  him.  In  the  great  trouble  which 
had  rushed  upon  the  Parsonage,  the  animals  had  been 
neglected.  The  pale  stallion,  unsatisfied  and  impatient, 
reared  upon  his  hind  legs  and  fought  the  air  with  his  hoofs. 
Cora  sprang  back.  The  stallion  rushed  upon  her,  and  around 
her,  leaping,  rearing,  prancing,  and  breaking  away,  and 
spurning  the  ground  in  the  glory  of  his  strength.  Cora 
was  frightened  and  dismayed.  Whenever  she  attempted 
to  move  away,  the  horse  came  about  her  like  a  whirlwind. 
One  stroke  of  his  hoof  would  break  every  bone  in  her  body. 
He  bit  at  her,  as  if  he  would  seize  her  in  his  gleaming 
white  teeth  and  shake  her  to  piec'es.  She  could  see  that 
at  each  return  his  eye  was  gathering  fire  and  ferocity,  and 
she  quaked  with  terror  as  she  found  herself  in  the  jaws 
of  a  strange  and  unanticipated  peril.  In  the  midst  of  it, 
she  heard  a  voice  of  command  so  stern,  metallic,  and  even 
fierce,  that  the  very  roots  of  her  hair  tingled.  The  stall! 
stopped  with  the  suddenness  of  a  pistol-shot.  Turnin, 
about,  Cora  saw  Cassel  Rapid  hastening  to  her.  With  a  cry 
which  meant  almost  everything,  she  sprang  toward  him  antf 
ran  into  his  arms.  She  put  her  arms  tightly  about  his  neck, 
and  hid  her  face  in  his  hair.  He  forced  her  face  in  front 
of  him,  and  kissed  her  passionately  in  the  mouth.  Cora 
did  not  revolt,  but  clung  to  him,  almost  frantically,  as  if 
he  were  the  sheet-anchor  of  her  safety.  She  felt  the  need 
of  protection,  not  only  immediate,  but  for  always,  and  she 
buried  herself  in  his  dauntless  breast,  like  a  child  fleeing 
from  the  terrors  of  darkness  into  its  mother's  bosom. 

"You  understand  me,  now,  little  one?"  asked  Cassel, 
while  he  held  her  in  his  arms. 

"  You  are  my  war-eagle,"  said  Cora. 

"  You  are  my  dove,"  rejoined  the  lover. 

"  You  are  my  lion,"  cried  Cora,  almost  ready  to  shriek 
with  happiness  and  accumulated  excitement. 

"You  are  my  lamb,"  was  the  gentle  reply,  and  Cassel 
again  forced  Cora's  lips  to  his. 

After  numberless  endearments,   Cora  looked  into  her 
lover's  eyes  with  a  long,  thrilling,  agonizing  gaze.     She 


432  TEKEL, 

was  thinking  of  Rebecca,  and  the  Hopes,  and  the  Ruth- 
vens. 

"I  know  it  all,"  said  Cassel. 

"What  shall  be  done?" 

A  black  frown  gathered  to  Cassel's  brow,  and  a  lurid, 
relentless  light  leaped  to  his  violet  eyes.  Cora  felt  that 
in  her  lover  was  an  invincible  spirit  that  would  draw 
blades  with  Apollyon  himself,  in  a  question  of  right  and 
wrong. 

"Please  do  not  look  so  terrible,"  pleaded  Cora. 

"  I  cannot  help  it.  I  am  thinking,  not  only  of  what  is, 
but  of  what  might  have  been.  You  were  there,  my  pure 
young  love.  Great  heavens!  if  this  thing  had  come  upon 
you, — and,  for  the  second  time,  upon  me,  I  would  have 
devoted  my  life  and  fortune  to  slaying  every  spoiler  upon 
the  face  of  the  earth.  If  that  is  not  the  truth,  may  the 
great  Jehovah  annihilate  me  now!" 

Creswood  was  in  arms,  and  every  honest  heart  was  stern 
,,and  fixed  for  justice, — if  justice  can  be  visited  upon  a  crime, 
an  unprovoked  and  inexcusable  damnation,  which  trans 
cends  the  retributive  power  of  the  mortal  arm.  Rebecca 
Ruthven  had  given  the  name — nay,  the  names  of  her  de 
stroyers,  for  she  knew  them  well.  They  were  two  men — 
demons— who  had  recently  been  employed  as  carpenter 
and  plasterer  in  repairing  the  Ruthven  cottage,  in  antici 
pation  of  the  young  girl's  approaching  bridehood.  There 
they  had  seen  Rebecca,  in  her  blonde  loveliness,  and  she 
had  parleyed  with  them,  daily,  in  respect  to  the  repairs. 
Premeditation  had  long  been  in  their  guilty  souls. 

The  sheriff  with  his  aids,  and  all  the  arms-bearing  males 
of  Creswood, — among  whom  the  Hopes  were  sacred  and 
the  Ruthvens  honored, — were  now  afield.  Every  pass- 
way  from  the  original  "Crescent  Wold,"  of  which  "  Cres 
wood"  was  a  contraction  both  in  name  and  fact,  was 
guarded  day  and  night,  and  the  destroyers,  like  hyenas 
surrounded  in  the  jungle,  were  being  hunted  to  the  center, 
without  intermission  or  time  for  rest. 

There  were  several  bad  characters  in  the  neighborhood, 
chiefly  men  who,  like  Jonas  Aiken,  had  boarded  with  Amy 
Turn  bolt  down  among  the  huts  on  the  Starboard  Strand, 
and  who  yet  sojourned  there  at  convenient  or  inconvenient 


OR   CORA   GLEXCOE.  433 

intervals.  Consciously  guilty  of  many  misdeeds,  they 
were  alarmed  at  the  rousing  of  the  people,  and  were  by 
no  means  satisfied  that  the  sheriff  did  not  carry  in  his 
pocket  warrants  for  their  arrest,  or  that  the  people,  now 
that  they  were  out  in  full  force,  would  not  make  a  clean 
sweep  of  the  neighborhood.  They  therefore  rallied  to  the 
destroyers  of  Rebecca  Ruthven,  banded  themselves  to 
gether,  and,  finding  escape  hopeless  by  land,  the  whole 
guilty  party  determined  to  seize  the  Whitecap  and  put  to 
sea. 

The  outlaws,  for  we  may  well  call  them  such,  were 
known  to  be  burrowed  somewhere  in  Creswood,  and  plans 
were  being  perfected  by  which  to  capture  them,  without 
bloodshed  if  possible.  But  it  was  the  tacit  understanding 
among  the  more  prominent  citizens,  and  all  who  follow  in 
the  train  of  determined  leaders,  that  the  two  destroyers 
should,  when  captured,  be  hung, — the  sheriff  and  the  laws 
to  the  contrary  nevertheless.  But  a  rumor,  which  gradually 
ripened  into  a  well-authenticated  report,  was  rapidly  sprea^^ 
abroad,  that  Miss  Ruthven  was  mistaken  in  the  names  and 
visages  of  her  destroyers.  A  respectable  and  well-known 
country  merchant, — our  old  friend  Mr.  Nutt, — who  kept  a 
store  in  the  next-to-nothing  of  a  village  back  in  the  woods 
a  few  miles  from  Gale  Island,  with  several  other  honest 
and  disinterested  citizens,  affirmed  that  the  accused  were 
both  at  the  country  store,  a  quarter  of  an  hour  before  the 
eclipse  began, — the  time  at  which  the  outrage  was  said  to 
have  been  committed, — and  continued  there  until  sundown. 
This  they  would  swear  to  in  a  court  of  justice.  But  Re 
becca  Ruthven  did  not  vary  from  her  original  and  positive 
accusation,  and  although  the  citizens  were  not  so  ready  to 
organize  a  mob  as  they  had  at  first  been,  they  were  equally 
determined  to  catch  the  men,  whose  actions,  in  secreting 
themselves,  did  not  conduce  to  establish  their  innocence, 
but  the  contrary. 

Captain  Gale  was  sitting  on  his  portico.  Better  from 
that  point  than  any  other,  he  could  watch,  with  his  spy 
glass,  up  and  down  the  beach  for  more  than  three  miles 
each  way,  to  see  that  no  skiff  put  to  sea  to  carry  the  out 
laws  beyond  the  strict  lines  of  Creswood.  At  night,  the 

37 


434  TEKEL, 

skiffs  along  the  strands  were  gathered  at  Gale  Island,  and 
guarded. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon.  Several  watermen,  in  obe 
dience  to  improvised  regulations,  had  brought  their  skiffs 
to  anchor  in  Gale  Island  Bay,  and  were  now  on  the  cottage 
portico,  conversing  with  Captain  Gale  about  the  excitement, 
and  interchanging  conjectures  and  rumors.  Cassel  Rapid, 
coming  down  from  the  forest,  tied  his  horse  on  the  verge  of 
the  canal,  and  hailed  the  island  for  some  one  to  ferry  him 
over.  One  of  the  watermen,  at  the  request  of  Captain 
Gale,  brought  him  over  in  a  trice, — no,  in  a  skiff,  for  we 
are  now  relating  facts. 

Johnny  Gale,  and  Caddy,  and  Cora  were  sitting  on  the 
Tarpeian  Rock,  Cora's  old  favorite  seat.  The  two  girls 
were  raking  Johnny  fore  and  aft  about  Linda  Boyd,  and 
Johnny  was  retaliating  by  accusing  Caddy  of  having  no 
sweetheart  at  all,  good  or  bad, — and  attempting  to  tease 
Cora  by  pronouncing  Cassel  Rapid  a  humbug ;  the  meanest 
and  most  conceited  fellow  he  had  ever  observed  between 
any  two  New  Years. 

"tf  ou  shall  not  abuse  him,"  said  Cora,  "  unless  you  do 
it  to  his  face,  and  you  dare  not  do  that." 

"  I've  already  done  that,  to  my  heart's  content,"  fibbed 
Johnny,  "  and  now  I  expect  to  abuse  him  the  world  over." 

"He'll  thrash  you,"  said  Caddy. 

"  By  Juggernaut,  he  isn't  man  enough,"  replied  Johnny, 
glancing  complacently  down  at  his  proportions. 

"  But  he's  b'hoy  enough,"  said  Cora,  laughing ;  "  and  I'll 
tell  you,  Mr.  Johnny,  if  you  whet  your  tongue  against 
him,  I  will  hint  to  him  to  cut  you  out  with  Mrs.  Boyd." 

"And  he'll  take  the  hint, — as  a  matter  of  course, — that  is, 
he  would,  if  he  didn't  have  to  paddle  over  Lake  Huron,  or 
some  sort  of  a  Huron,  in  order  to  be  able;"  and  Johnny 
roared  with  laughter  at  his  clumsy  pun.  "But  I've  al 
ready  got  my  little  fate  bottled  up,  corked,  and  sealed.  I 
'  laid  '  for  Cassel,  and  caught  him  upon  the  hook  of  one  of 
his  most  precious  proverbs." 

"  How  did  you  accomplish  so  great  a  feat  of  angling  ?" 
asked  Caddy. 

"  You  know,  Caddy,  if  you  ever  read  your  Bible,  hjovv 
Nathan  'laid'  for  David,  caught  him  fast,  and  then  de- 


OR    CORA    OLENCOE.  435 

nounced  him  with,  '  Thou  art  the  man !'  Well,  I  am 
bushed  Cassel  pretty  much  the  same  way,  and  then  came 
down  upon  him  with  the  announcement  of,  '  /  am  the 
man.'  He  saw  that  I  had  horn-swoggled  him,  and  like 
the  best  fellow  in  the  world, — which  he  is, — he  told  me 
to  pass  in  my  checks  and  mosey  along  to  glory." 

"Love  has  made  a  most  cunning  diplomatist  of  you 
Mr.  Johnny,"  laughed  Cora. 

The  conversation  was  suddenly  broken  off  by  the  re 
port  of  a  pistol-shot  from  the  direction  of  Gale  Island. 
Another  similar  report  quickly  followed, — then  three  or 
four  more  in  rapid  succession,  among  which  could  be  dis 
tinguished  the  louder  discharge  of  a  shot-gun. 

"  What  is  it  ?"  asked  Cora. 

"It's  at  the  island, — I  must  go!"  cried  Johnny,  who 
started  away. 

"  Are  you  going  to  leave  us  here  alone  ?"  screamed 
Caddy. 

Johnny  halted,  undecided  whether  to  go  or  stay.  Look 
ing  homeward,  he  saw  a  man  rush  up  to  the  pale  stallion, 
which  was  tied  close  to  the  edge  of  the  canal,  and  mount 
him.  The  fierce  animal  reared,  and  plunged,  and  shook 
off  the  man,  then  struck  him  to  the  earth  with  his  fore 
feet,  and  trampled  upon  him  Cora  turned  as  pale  as 
marble, — she  feared  that  it  was  her  lover,  and  she  strained 
her  eyes  to  see  if  he  would  rise  from  the  ground ;  but  he 
did  not.  She  was  just  about  to  rush  away  to  her  lover's 
assistance,  when  a  man  appeared  over  the  bank  of  the 
canal,  and  started  up  the  beach,  running  with  all  his 
speed.  In  a  few  moments  an  agile  form  sprang  upon  the 
prancing  stallion,  wheeled  him,  and  launched  forward  up 
the  strand  in  swift  and  magnificent  pursuit.  Nearer  and 
nearer  came  pursuer  and  pursued,  and  Cora,  in  the  highest 
pitch  of  excitement,  stood  upon  the  Tarpeian  Rock;  for 
she  had  recognized  her  lover,  with  the  lasso  poised  above 
his  head,  and  in  chase  of  another  Jonas  Aiken.  She  fully 
expected  to  see  the  man  rush  into  the  sea,  and  the  pale 
horse  breasting  the  waves  and  carrying  his  rider  within 
dagger-stroke  of  the  fugitive ;  she  fully  expected  to  see 
the  vigorous  arm  lifted,  and  the  steel,  upon  its  deadly 
errand,  flash  downward  with  three  decisive  strokes ;  for 


436  TEKEL, 

it  was  all  but  as  the  realization  of  a  vivid  dream,  long 
past.  But  the  pale  horse  came  like  the  wind,  and  with 
an  unerring  cast,  the  coil  of  the  lasso  dropped  like  a  ser 
pent  about  the  neck  of  the  fleeting  fugitive.  Sudden  as 
the  stroke  of  a  hammer,  the  stallion  stopped,  with  his 
forefeet  buried  to  the  fetlocks  in  the  solid  sand.  The 
fugitive  was  violently  overthrown.  Johnny  Gale  hast 
ened  forward,  and  recognizing  one  of  Rebecca's  destroy 
ers,  he  seized  him  by  the  throat,  dragged  him  up,  and  in 
a  voice  of  passion  said, — 

"  You  are  one  of  the  hell-hounds  who  have  brought  woe 
into  this  community !" 

Raising  his  arm,  he  was  about  to  strike  the  man  to  the 
earth,  when  Cassel  cried, — 

"  Hold,  Johnny  I—this  is  not  your  game." 

Cassel  dismounted,  and  the  man  was  secured.  Turning 
to  the  two  girls,  Cassel  said, — 

"Come, — we  must  hasten  to  Gale  Island, — there  are 
some  wounded  men  there, — Cora,  will  you  go  with  us  ?" 

"  Good  God !"  cried  Caddy.     "  Is  father  hurt  ?" 

"  Only  a  flesh  wound,  in  the  arm, — there  is  no  danger, 
as  far  as  he  is  concerned." 

But  Caddy  thought  there  was. 

"  What  has  occurred  at  the  island  ?"  asked  Johnny. 

"  Come  ou,  and  I'll  tell  you  as  we  go.  But  first,  Cora, 
do  you  know  this  man?" 

"  No,"  replied  Cora,  looking  at  the  prisoner.  "  But 
what  has  happened  ?  Why,  your  clothes  are  ringing 
wet !" 

"  I  swam  the  canal, — that  is  all." 

As  they  proceeded  to  Gale  Island,  Cassel  explained. 

"  Six  men  attempted  to  carry  the  Whitecap  to  sea.  Cap 
tain  Gale  discovered  that  a  strange  crew  was  aboard  of 
his  vessel,  and  that  the  anchor  cable  was  cut.  He  quickly 
mustered  a  force  of  three  watermen  and  one  landlubber, 
the  latter  being  me,  who  chanced  to  be  at  the  cottage.  We 
were  all  well  armed.  The  rogues  were  trying  to  work  the 
vessel  out  of  the  canal  into  the  open  water.  The  cabin 
and  hatchways  were  closed,  and  the  enemy  were  obliged 
to  remain  on  deck  and  stand  their  ground,  or  jump  over 
board  into  the  bay.  One  of  our  men  fired  a  shot,  and  a 


OR   CORA   GLENCOE.  437 

man  dropped.  We  came  to  as  close  quarters  as  the  situa 
tion  would  allow.  I  fired  and  another  man  dropped.  The 
rogues  returned  the  fire,  and  one  of  our  men  was  wounded. 
Captain  Gale  opened  on  them  with  his  shot-gun  just  as  a 
ball  from  the  enemy  passed  through  his  arm.  Three  of 
the  enemy  were  down,  one  threw  up  his  hands  and  sur 
rendered,  and  two  jumped  overboard. 

"  '  There  they  go !'  shouted  Captain  Gale. 

"'Who?' 

'"  The  fates  of  Rebecca  Ruthven.' 

"Our  two  un wounded  watermen  ran  for  their  skiffs. 
The  fugitives  escaped  up  the  opposite  bank  of  the  canal. 
I  swam  the  canal  with  one  of  my  pistols  in  my  teeth. 
When  I  got  upon  the  beach  my  horse  was  pawing  one  of 
the  men,  while  the  other — this  devil  walking  before  us — 
was  fleeing  up  the  strand.  I  mounted  and  pursued.  You 
saw  the  rest." 

"Are  you  hurt  ?"  asked  Cora. 

"  No, — I  lost  a  lock  of  hair,  and  my  wrist  is  grazed,  but 
no  damage." 

When  they  came  to  the  canal,  the  man  who  had  been 
thrown  and  hoof-beaten  by  the  stallion,  was  dead.  Cora, 
as  soon  as  she  saw  his  face,  sprang  back  and  whispered 
with  horror, — 

il'Tishe!" 

"  Who  ?"  asked  Cassel. 

"  The  man  who  killed  my  dog." 

Cassel  understood  her.  Turning  to  his  horse,  he  patted 
him  affectionately,  and  said, — 

"This  is  the  horse  who  '  knoweth  his  rider'  in  more 
ways  than  one.'' 

The  party  were  ferried  over  to  the  island,  and  soon 
entered  the  cottage,  where  they  found  no  little  confusion. 
There  were  five  prisoners,  three  of  whom  were  wounded 
severely,  and  two  unhurt,  except  that  the  fugitive  whom 
Cassel  had  lassoed  was  jerked  nearly  out  of  joint  in  the 
region  of  the  neck.  A  surgeon — or  rather,  a  physician — 
had  been  sent  for  :  also  the  sheriff. 

"Captain  Gale,"  said  Cassel,  "let  me  dress  your 
wound." 

37* 


438  TEKEL, 

"  My  wife  has  dressed  it,  but  I'm  afraid  she's  a  raw 
hand  at  the  business, — it  feels  too  much  bound  up." 

Cassel  took  off  the  binding-,  washed  the  wound,  passed 
a  skein  of  white  silk  through  it,  and  skillfully  bandaged  it. 

"  That's  a  powerful  limb  of  yours,  captain ;  and  all 
you  need  do  to  bring  it  around  as  good  as  new,  is  to  keep 
it  cool  and  beat  off  the  fever." 

"  That's  about  all  a  man  has  to  do  to  live,"  laughed 
Captain  Gale,  "keep  Death  out  and  breath  in.  But 
thank  you,  Cassel,  I  feel  much  easier  under  your  manipu 
lations." 

"  What  do  you  propose  to  do  with  these  prisoners  ?" 
asked  Cassel. 

"  Turn  them  over  to  the  sheriff." 

"  But  the  one  whom  I  captured  ?" 

"  Him  also,  unless  you  claim  him." 

"  What  is  his  name  ?" 

"  Hines." 

"  I  wish  Garland  Hope  were  here; — I'd  know  better 
whether  to  claim  this  wretch  or  not.  He  ought  to  be 
hung." 

"  Let  the  law  hang  him." 

"  But  it  won't  hang  him  " 

"  Well, — I've  nothing  more  to  say,  just  now.  You  know 
there  is  a  report  that  Miss  Ruthven  is  mistaken." 

"  I  am  sure  she  is  not  mistaken,"  said  Cassel. 

"Why  so  sure  ?" 

"  Because  Cora  has  recognized  the  dead  man  on  the  op 
posite  bank  of  the  canal  as  the  one  who  was  in  company 
with  this  Hines  when  the  deed  was  done.  What  is  the 
name  of  this  dead  man  ?" 

"  Butler, — he  was  a  plasterer." 

"  Exactly.  Hines  the  carpenter,  and  Butler  the  plas 
terer  ;  the  very  names  which  Miss  Ruthven  adheres  to. 
She  knows  them  well,  and  cannot  be  mistaken.  Cora  her 
self  recognizes  one  of  them." 

"  It's  a  hard  thing,"  said  Captain  Gale,  thinking  of  all 
the  anguish  which  the  Ruthvens  and  Hopes  were  suffer 
ing,  of  the  bankrupt  Rebecca,  and  the  bankrupt  young 
minister. 

"  Hard  !  It's  Hell!"  said  Cassel  Rapid,  with  corrugated 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  439 

brow.  "  Captain  Gale,  you  shot  a  man  to-day.  What  did 
you  do  it  for  ?" 

"  For  turning  pirate  and  attempting  to  rob  me  of  my 
property." 

"  Would  the  loss  of  the  Whitecap  have  been  an  irrepa 
rable  loss  to  you  ?" 

"  By  no  means,  though  it  would  have  been  heavy." 

"  Did  you  try  to  kill  the  fellow  ?" 

"  Of  course  I  did.  I  had  a  right  to  try,  and  to  succeed, 
too,  if  I  could  do  so.  But  I  am  glad  that  the  affair  ended 
with  so  little  mortality." 

"  If  you  had  killed  a  man  during  this  attempted  piracy 
upon  you,  the  law  would  have  said  Amen." 

"Yes." 

"  And  yet  you  are  justified  by  an  attempt,  merely,  to 
steal  your  boat;  and  this  attempt  was,  in  one  sense,  a 
measure  of  self-preservation  with  the  pirates.  Suppose, 
however,  that  they  had  not  only  attempted,  but  had  suc 
ceeded,  to  pillage  Gale  Island  of  its  chastity,  and  honor, 
and  joy,  and  peace,  and  very  life  !  What  then  ?" 

"I  see  your  drift,  Cassel ;  but  proceed." 

"A  blind  man  could  see  it,"  replied  Cassel,  sternly. 
"An  injury  which  can  never  be  amended,  an  outrage 
which  can  never  be  canceled,  a  wound  which  can  never 
be  healed  or  even  soothed,  an  infamy  which  can  never  be 
blotted  out,  has  been  put  upon  an  innocent,  pure-hearted, 
and  blameless  young  virgin,  and  about  her  now  sweeps  a 
maelstrom  of  woe  which  engulfs  not  only  herself  but 
many  of  her  heart-aching  friends.  The  power  and  prayers 
and  riches  of  the  whole  earth  are  impotent  to  restore  her, 
or  even  patch  up  this  most  superlative  wrong.  The  same 
with  Garland  Hope.  What  would  have  been  the  loss  of 
the  Whitecap  to  you  in  comparison  with  what  he  has  lost ! 
Can  you  even  imagine  what  that  gentle  true  heart  within 
him  suffers  ?  Old  Mr.  Ruthven,  an  honored  patriarch  of 
your  county,  is  killed  by  it.  Mrs.  Ruthven,  as  amiable 
and  sweet  a  mother  as  ever  caressed  a  child,  is  stricken 
to  her  bed,  from  which  she  will  never  rise  until  summoned 
by  God  himself.  Rebecca  will  be  a  living  and  polluted 
statue  until  the  grave  redeems  her.  Gloom  rests  like  a 
pall  in  the  home  of  the  Hopes.  It  is  done,  and  Omnipo- 


440  TEKEL, 

tent  power  itself  cannot  undo  it.  Who  did  it?  The 
wretch  is  here  in  your  own  house,  a  very  poison  to  the 
air.  Rebecca  is  almost  without  a  champion.  Her  lover 
is  as  mild  and  gentle  as  a  lamb.  He  is,  moreover,  a  min 
ister  and  priest  of  Heaven,  and  cultivated  conscience  may 
make  him  shrink  from  the  red  task  which  clamors  for 
performance.  But  is  it  not  enough  to  make  him  curse 
God  and  die  ?  Is  it  not  enough  to  make  him  dash  the 
Book  to  earth,  spurn  the  commandment  '  Thou  shalt  not 
kill,'  and  rush  to  vengeance,  retribution,  justice,  every 
thing  which  might  be  fierce  and  rectifying  ?  Suppose  he 
does.  The  pusillanimous  letter  of  the  Statute  will  hang 
him.  If  he  does  not,  the  spoiler  goes  to  the  penitentiary, — 
in  this  State  for  life,  in  many  other  States  for  a  few  years. 
What  does  '  for  life'  signify  ?  It  means  simply  until  a 
change  of  government,  until  a  certificate  of  good  behavior 
is  presented,  well  underwritten  with  the  signatures  of 
scheming  men,  or  until  some  candidate  needs  another  vote 
perhaps." 

[NOTE. — Without  desiring  to  make  a  distinction,  we  refer 
the  reader,  as  an  illustration  of  Cassel's  truth,  to  the  fact, 
that,  among  the  convicts  pardoned  during  the  year  1869 
by  the  Governor  of  Illinois,  were  seven,  each  of  whom  had 
been  convicted  and  imprisoned  for  Rape.  Where  are 
their  victims  ?] 

Calmly  looking  into  Captain  Gale's  honest  face,  Cassel 
Rapid  said,  in  continuation, — 

"  Captain  Gale,  you  are  a  man  whom  I  respect  in  every 
sense  of  the  word.  You  are  an  exemplar  to  your  neigh 
bors.  You  have  lived  a  life  of  propriety,  integrity,  order, 
and  peace.  Since  you  had  a  voice  you  have  sustained  the 
laws  of  your  country.  Your  hobby  has  been,  'let  the 
Law  take  its  course.'  You  have  even  subjected  the 
Whitecap  to  this,  your  hobby.  But  coolly, — do  you  not 
think  that  this  wretch  should  die  ?" 

"  But  I  am  not  the  person  to  kill  him." 

"  Who  is  the  person  ?" 

"  I  cannot  say." 

"  Suppose  that  it  had  been  Caddy,  instead  of  Rebecca; 
who  then  would  have  been  the  person?" 

Captain  Gale,  without  reply,  looked  out  of  a  near  win 
dow.  Cassel  continued : 


OR   CORA    OLENCOE.  441 

"  It  is  written  in  the  hearts  of  the  people,  and  upon  every 
leaf  of  chivalric  history,  that  death  should  be  the  sequel 
to  this  worse  than  death.  The  Law  should  visit  the  pun 
ishment,  like  an  unquailing  and  champion  executioner ;  and 
that  Law  should  be  set  in  unnumbered  frames,  and  enriched 
with  flowers,  and  hung  upon  the  walls  of  cities,  and  in  the 
trees  of  the  forest,  as  the  jewel  of  our  statute  books,  and 
a  pledge  to  our  countrywomen  that  we  are  men.  Great 
Jehovah !  when  I  suffer  myself  to  think  of  it,  I  thirst  for 
the  blood  of  the  Spoiler !  1 — killed — Jonas — Aiken,  Cap 
tain  Gale.  Tell  that  to  the  winds,  and  let  them  carry  it  to 
the  four  quarters  of  the  globe.  Tell  it  to  the  sheriff,  as  it 
is  your  lawful  duty  to  do,  and  let  him  arrest  me.  I  dare 
you  to  do  it.  I  tell  you  again,  that  I,  Cassel  Pontiac  Rapid, 
killed  Jonas  Aiken.  What  say  you  ?" 

"  Hush,  Cassel,"  was  Captain  Gale's  reply. 

"  We  agree,"  said  young  Rapid.  "  I  would  engage  to 
revolutionize  America  upon  this  one  question,  if  I  could 
only  reach  the  ears  of  my  countrymen.  They  don't  think 
about  it,  unless  it  is  brought  home  to  them,  and  then  it  is 
too  late  to  think,  and  they  have  to  act." 

Cassel's  words  may  read  as  though  he  were  unduly  ex 
cited,  but  he  was  not.  He  was  in  earnest,  and  his  voice 
was  as  stable  and  regular  and  clear  as  the  ring  of  silver. 


CHAPTER   XL. 

To  those  of  our  readers  who  feel  an  interest  in  the  Cause 
which  this  narrative  advocates,  we  promise  that  the  en 
suing  chapter  shall  be  exceedingly  interesting, — and  the 
promise  is  not  a  piece  of  presumption  on  the  part  of  the 
author,  for  we  are,  and  have  been,  dealing  in  facts,  para 
mount  to  the  creative  powers  of  our  pen,  and  demanding 
simply  a  concise  and  truthful  record. 

The  sheriff  with  his  posse  came  down  to  Gale  Island  and 
took  possession  of  the  prisoners. 


442  TEKEL, 

Hines,  the  jungle  demon,  was  confined  in  jail  under  two 
indictments,-^-one  in  connection  with  the  ruin  of  Rebecca 
Ruthven,  the  other  for  piracy  upon  the  Whitecap.  His 
bail  was  very  heavy,  and  ke  could  not  raise  it.  We  are  dis- 
regai'ding  legal  and  mystifying  technicalities. 

In  the  midst  of  the  deplorable  incidents  affecting  the 
commune  of  Creswood,  there  came  a  letter  from  New  York 
to  Captain  Gale.  The  sturdy  mariner  was  not  upon  his 
island,  but  was  back  at  the  little  village  gossiping,  with 
his  wounded  arm  in  a  sling.  Mrs.  Gale,  recognizing  the 
handwriting  of  Carroll  May,  did  not  hesitate  to  open  the 
letter  in  her  husband's  absence.  Carroll's  communication 
was  peculiarly  apropos.  It  began  by  stating  that  Johnny 
had  left  New  York  without  giving  any  definite  idea  as  to 
where  he  was  going.  "  It  is  likely,"  wrote  Carroll,  "  that 
he  has  gone  out  with  some  surveying  expedition ;  but 
wherever  he  may  be,  you  need  give  yourself  no  care,  for 
Johnny  is  big  enough  to  take  his  own  part,  and  that  of  two 
or  three  more,  if  necessary, — one  more,  at  all  events,"  and 
here  Carroll  hinted  at  Linda. 

Carroll  wrote  of  himself  as  "  getting  on  finely,"  and  as 
being  in  "  very  good  spirits,"  which  gives  additional  proof 
that  it  is  possible  for  the  human  heart  to  continue  its  regu 
lar  beats,  even  after  it  has  been  broken  all  to  pieces  by  a 
love  stroke.  The  letter  continued  : 

"  Uncle  Gale,  I  have  often  thought  of  that  engraved 
dagger  with  its  Tekel  on  the  point,  and  of  Jonas  Aiken 
and  his  undoubted  crime.  Recently  I  have  figured  as  as 
sociate  counsel  for  the  plaintiff  in  a  case  of  a  similar  and 
exceeding  outrage.  The  plaintiff  is  a  little  girl  not  more 
than  fifteen  years  of  age,  and  the  criminal,  or  defendant,  a 
banker  of  wealth,  resident  in  this  city.  The  banker  was 
sentenced  to  a  few  years'  imprisonment,  with  the  prospect 
of  a  speedy,  purchased,  pardon.  He  would  have  been 
mobbed  but  for  the  strenuous  efforts  of  the  police — efforts, 
by-the-way,  worthy  of  a  better  aim.  We  are  now  prepar 
ing  to  strike  high  in  the  figures  of  his  wealth,  for  damages. 
The  little  girl  was  poor,  but  lofty  minded,  respectable,  and 
pure,  and  language  could  not  tell  you  of  the  depths  into 
which  this  infamy  has  plunged  her  and  her  kindred. 
Our  law  firm  is  engaged  in  the  suit  for  damages,  and  we 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  443 

intend  to  succeed,  or  put  it  through  every  court  of  justice 
and  equity  in  the  land.  But  if  the  mountains  were  of  gold, 
and  she  had  it  all,  it  would  never  give  back  to  that  sensi 
tive  and  sweet  young  girl  the  normal  peace  of  her  soul,  or 
the  integrity  of  her  contemplations.  Her  life  is  envenomed, 
and  she  feels  that  a  leprosy  Avill  always  hang  about  her. 
She  feels  that  she  is  utterly  blasted  by  this  caress  of  Hell; 
that  she  must  hide  her  face  in  shame  ;  that  she  must  forego 
her  lover  ;  forego  all  the  delights  and  pure  proximities  of 
life  ;  everything  in  fact  that  lights  the  eye  or  glads  the 
heart, — and  spend  her  time  in  solitary  tryst  with  the  heart 
ache.  It  is  a  shame  upon  American  manhood  that  these 
deathly  grievances  should  not  be  met  with  Death.  A  term 
in  prison, — an  abridged  term  in  all  probability,  to  offset 
the  ruin  of  our  women  !  Every  honest  man  should  revolt 
against  the  law,  defy  the  law-makers,  or  become  law-makers 
themselves  and  to  some  purpose.  This  little  girl's  father, 
and  brothers,  and  cousins,  all  swear,  by  their  eternal  souls, 
that  the  ravisher  shall  die  as  soon  as  his  foot  is  free  from 
the  gates  of  his  confinement.  They  are  a  resolute  family, 
springing  from  Revolutionary  stock,  and  will  wait  a  hun 
dred  years,  if  life  were  so  long,  that  they  may  visit  jus 
tice." 

When  Mrs.  Gale,  with  tears  in  her  eyes,  had  read  thus 
far,  thinking  not  only  of  the  little  New  York  girl,  but  also 
of  Rebecca  Ruthven,  she  earnestly  said  to  herself, — 

"And  God  grant  that  all  of  her  kindred  may  live  till  the 
hour  of  retribution  comes.  What  woman  could  love  or 
respect  any  man  who  would  not  defend  her  purity,  or 
avenge  her  spoliation  ?  I  know  what  my  old  lion  would 
do,  notwithstanding  his  reverence  for  Law,  and  his  preach 
ing  about  the  '  law  must  take  its  course.'  If  demagogues 
will  not  protect  us  with  their  laws,  which  are  chiefly  gotten 
of  corruption,  then  let  our  household  lions  themselves  rend 
the  demons  who  crouch  in  the  jungle,  watching  for  their 
opportunity.  That  is  a  Right,  for  the  exercise  of  which  I 
shall  always  contend,  whether  it  be  called  Man's  Right, 
Woman's  Right,  Humanity's  Right,  or  God's  Right." 

The  conclusion  of  Carroll's  letter  had  no  bearing  upon 
this  little  history,  and  it  is  therefore  suppressed.  Mrs. 
Gale,  having  finished  it,  mused  awhile. 


444  TEKEL, 

"  Laws,"  said  she  to  herself,  "  are  strange  things  any 
how.  Suppose  that  one  of  these  demons  should  come  in 
here  right  now,  and  that  I,  knowing  his  purpose,  should 
take  that  pistol  there  and  shoot  him  dead.  What  would 
the  law  do  ?  Nothing.  But  suppose  that  I  could  not  shoot 
him,  and  that  he  should  make  himself  the  master  here,  and 
my  husband  should  come  home,  and  I  should  tell  him,  and 
he  should  hunt  up  the  demon, — as  I  know  he  would, — and 
shoot  him  dead.  What  would  the  law  do  then  ?  It  would 
hang  my  husband  for  murder,  or  imprison  him  for  man 
slaughter.  And  mind  you,  I  kill  the  demon  before  he  is 
the  master,  and,  in  the  other  case,  my  husband  kills  him 
after  he  is  the  master.  What  sense  is  there  in  such  laws 
as  that  ?  Again, — suppose  my  husband  is  here  when  the 
demon  comes  in  at  first,  guilty  of  intention  merely,  and  my 
husband  shoots  him.  The  law  sleeps.  But  if  the  demon 
should  bind  my  husband,  and  then  master  me  and  make 
himself  guilty  of  the  act,  and  my  husband  should  break 
loose  and  follow  him  out  and  kill  him,  to-day,  to-morrow, 
or  next  week,  then  the  cranky  and  abominable  law  wakes 
up  against  my  husband/  What  sense  is  there  in  such 
laws  as  that  ?  Will  our  legislators  tell  me  ?"  And  Mrs. 
Gale  looked  scornfully  toward  the  Seat  of  Government. 
"There's  too  much  gingerbread  work  and  fine  lace  about 
law  anyhow.  Why  don't  they  make  it  simple,  so  that  they 
can  understand  it  themselves, — the  simpletons  ?" 

It  was  some  time  before  Hines  was  able  to  secure  coun 
sel,  as  almost  everybody  was  incensed  against  him.  Dur 
ing  this  self-dependent  interim,  fearful  that  a  certain  trick 
which  he  had  played  upon  the  country  merchant  Mr.  Nutt, 
and  upon  several  other  good  men  and  witnesses,  might  not 
stand  him  in  stead,  he  marked  out  for  himself  the  follow 
ing  line  of  procedure  and  defense.  He  would,  if  possible, 
get  himself  tried  first  for  his  lesser  crime,  of  piracy.  He 
would  declare  himself  innocent  of  the  ruin  of  Miss  Ruth- 
ven,  plead  guilty  to  the  charge  of  piracy,  but  extenuate 
his  guilt  by  reminding  the  court  of  the  great  hue  and  cry 
against  him,  and  which,  for  self-preservation,  had  compelled 
him  to  an  extreme  resort ;  to  wit : — an  attempt  to  escape 
by  means  of  the  Whitecap,  but  with  no  ultimate  design  of 
destroying  the  vessel  or  keeping  it  permanently  from  the 


OR   CORA    OLENCOE.  445 

owner.  He  would  maintain  an  intention  to  have  run  the 
vessel  into  port,  safe  from  the  fury  of  Creswood,  from 
whence  he  would  have  notified  Captain  Gale,  that  the 
property  might  have  been  recovered  with  as  little  loss  or 
delay  as  possible.  He  would  then  appeal  to  the  mercy  of 
the  court,  secure  for  himself  the  shortest  term  of  imprison 
ment,  at  the  expiration  of  which,  when  he  came  to  be  tried 
for  his  greater  crime,  he  would  have  the  advantages  of  the 
lapse  of  time,  with  its  changes  and  forgetful  ness,  a  calmer 
community,  and  whatever  of  sympathy  his  past  imprison 
ment  might  beget  for  him.  The  prisoner  discovered  some 
tact  within  himself. 

But  "  circumstances  alter  cases,"  and  the  circumstance 
of  his  having  at  length  secured  the  aid  of  counsel,  and  the 
knowledge  that  he  would  be  tried  in  the  order  of  his  crimes, 
and  the  cheering  information,  through  his  counsel,  that  he 
would  be  able  to  establish  an  alibi,  caused  him  adroitly  to 
reverse  his  battle  front,  and  willingly  to  accept  the  "  ty 
ranny  of  the  docket,"  as  he  had  at  first  been  pleased  to 
term  the  consecutiveness  of  the  judicial  calendar. 

We  have  already  alluded  to  the  puzzling  fact  that  mer 
chant  Nutt  and  several  other  good  citizens  had  expressed 
themselves  able  conscientiously  to  swear  that  both  Hines 
and  Butler  were  at  the  store  of  the  merchant  before, 
during,  and  after  the  precisely-timed  coming  of  Rebecca's 
calamity.  Their  oaths  would  be  based  upon  the  infalli 
bility  of  Mr.  Nutt's  clock-dial,  which  prided  itself  in  keep 
ing  tick  and  time  with  the  sun. 

The  prisoner,  who  was  not  unprepared  for  this  different 
phase,  but  who  had  all  along  had  reason  to  calculate  on 
it,  in  the  event  that  the  merchant  and  his  co-witnesses  did 
not,  in  the  general  indignation,  turn  their  backs  upon  him 
and  bridle  their  capable  tongues,  now  determined  to  prove 
an  alibi — an  elsewhere, — and  in  his  second  trial,  whenever 
that  might  be,  to  plead  "  not  guilty,"  and  sustain  his  plea 
upon  the  good  ground  that  all  Creswood  had  been  in  arms 
against  him  without  cause,  thereby  coercing  him  into  piracy 
upon  the  Whitecap,  as  a  measure  of  pure  self-defense, — a 
pressing  and  absolute  life-measure. 

The  day  of  trial  was  near  at  hand.     In  addition  to  the 
^  38 


446  TEKEL, 

hackneyed  officer  of  the  law,  the  prosecution  had  engaged 
able  counsel  and  whetted  tongues. 

Cassel  Rapid  had  written  the  following  letter  to  Carroll 
May : 

"  CARROLL, — Within  ten  days  after  the  receipt  of  this,  I 
earnestly  desire  to  see  you  at  Creswood.  You  have  heard 
of  the  fate  of  Rebecca  Ruthven.  I  wish  to  engage  you 
as  associate  counsel  for  the  prosecution  of  one  Apollyon. 
My  reasons  are  numerous  and  multiform. 

"  I  know  bow  the  trial  will  terminate.  The  criminal 
will  prove  an  alibi  and  be  acquitted  by  the  jury.  But  as 
he  is  most  certainly  guilty,  I  do  not  want  the  citizens  to 
acquit  him. 

"  You  are  just  out  of  a  case  almost  similar,  and  are 
therefore  fresh  from  the  arena,  and  fully  primed  with  the 
strength  and  aptitude  of  the  first  talent  of  New  York, 
with  and  against  whom  you  have  recently  been  engaged. 

"  It  will  afford  you  an  opportunity  of  seeing  your  friends, 
earn  you  a  good  fee,  for  which  I  am  responsible,  increase 
your  importance  with  your  employers,  and  advance  your 
reputation  in  the  professional  sphere. 

"  Auxiliary  to  your  own  peculiar  logic  and  force,  I  wish 
to  inoculate  you  with  some  of  my  own  gathered  fire,  and 
have  you  pour  it  out,  scintillating  with  volcanic  heat,  to 
nerve  this  people,  not  to  mad  fury,  but  to  intelligent,  de 
cisive,  and  irresistible  action, — I  need  hardly  add,  righteous 
action. 

"  Lastly, — I  have  sent  up  a  wish  to  the  Great  God,  that 
He  shall  strike  me  with  His  thunderbolts  the  moment  I 
cease  to  stand  for  the  purity  of  my  countrywomen,  or  to 
make  war  to  the  hilt  upon  the  spoilers  of  our  virgins. 
Come.  •"  Your  friend, 

"  CASSEL." 

Carroll  May  responded  in  person,  and,  on  the  day  of 
the  trial,  sat  within  the  bar  with  numerous  doctors  of  the 
law.  While  waiting  for  proceedings  to  begin,  a  packed 
throng  devoured  with  hungry  eyes  and  ears  every  indica 
tive  sight  and  sound. 

Garland  Hope  was  at  home.     He  felt  utterly  incapaci- 


Off   CORA    GLENCOE.  447 

tated  to  meet  the  public  details  of  his  bitter  woe.  He 
had  intrusted  his  interests  wholly  to  Cassel  Rapid,  con 
fident  that  the  untiring  energy,  courage,  and  discretion  of 
his  young  friend  would  accomplish  all  that  was  possible. 

Earhr  on  the  morning  of  the  day  of  trial,  Garland  was 
in  consultation  with  Cassel,  to  whom  he  poured  out  his 
heart  freely. 

"If  he  is  convicted,"  said  the  young  minister,  "and, 
under  our  statute,  imprisoned  for  life,  I  shall  feel  con 
strained  to  let  it  rest  at  that  But  if,  by  virtue  of  this 
alibi,  he  escapes  all  legal  punishment,  what  shall  I  do?  I 
alone  of  all  the  earth  am  left  to  visit  justice  upon  his 
head." 

"I  almost  wish  that  I  could  take  your  place,"  said  Cas 
sel,  with  a  glance  which  told  well  enough  what  he  would 
do.  "  You  know  what  I  have  done,"  continued  he,  "  or 
if  you  do  not,  I  will  tell  it  to  you  as  an  example."  . 

"  I  know,"  replied  Garland,  with  a  haggard  look.  Then, 
with  earnest  eyes  and  voice,  he  asked,  "But  have  you 
never,  in  the  silent  night,  or  the  contemplative  day,  re 
pented  of  what  you  did, — or,  to  be  milder,  regretted  it  ?" 

"Repented!"  cried  Cassel,  with  a  glance  of  fire.  "Je 
hovah,  in  whom  I  trust,  knows  that  I  have  not.  But  I 
have  groaned  that  all  I  have  done,  or  could  do,  was  so  like 
a  feather's  weight  in  the  scales  of  justice.  If  Albro  Ruth- 
ven  were  living,  there  would  be  no  need  of  statute,  judge, 
or  jury  in  this  case." 

"  It  is  not  that  I  fear  the  laws  of  Man,  but  of  God," 
said  the  young  minister,  with  a  look  of  agony. 

"Bring  me  the  Laws  of  God,"  said  Cassel. 

Garland  handed  him  the  Bible,  and  Cassel  quickly  read 
from  Deuteronomy,  chapter  xxii.,  verses  25  and  27  : 

"  But  if  a  man  find  a  betrothed  damsel  in  the  field,  and 
the  man  force  her,  and  lie  with  her ;  then  the  man  only 
that  lay  with  her  shall  die. 

"  For  he  found  her  in  the  field,  and  the  betrothed  damsel 
cried,  and  there  was  none  to  save  her." 

"  There,"  said  Cassel,  "  is  authority  for  you,  from  the 
very  foot  of  the  Throne, — a  precedent  more  than  twenty 
centuries  old.  It  is  the  Law  of  Moses  and  his  God.  And 
it  was  given  in  a  barbaric  age,  when  women  were  the  pup- 


448  TEKEL, 

pets  and  toys  of  men.  I  know  that  the  Mosaic  Dispensa 
tion  has  been  modified  by  that  of  Christ,  but  it  is  chiefly 
by  way  of  simplification, — and  the  God-given  laws  of  Jus 
tice  and  Nature  are  immutable, — the  same  yesterday,  to 
day,  and  forever.  Who  shall  change  them  ?  If  there  is 
any  truth  in  Moses  the  forerunner  of  Christ,  and  if  He 
brew  history  is  not  all  a  fiction,  then  the  spoiler  must  surely 
die.  A  Russian  serf  slew  the  prince  of  his  house  when 
his  young  daughter  came  from  the  castle  to  his  hut  drip 
ping  with  the  gore  of  her  own  undoing.  He  fled  down 
into  Europe  and  up  into  the  mountains  of  Switzerland, 
where,  in  his  Alpine  freedom,  he  defied  the  far  power  of 
the  Russian  Empire,—  and  the  world  applauded.  An 
humble  but  proud-hearted  butcher  of  Rome,  unable  to  cope 
with  the  tyrant  emperor,  slew  his  own  child,  Virginia,  in 
the  public  market-place,  to  save  her  from  imperial  pollution. 
The  mightiest  bards  and  most  trenchant  pens  have  praised 
him,  and  his  name  now,  after  ages  have  passed,  occupies 
the  niche  set  apart  by  sentiment  and  history  to  commemo 
rate  Heroic  Virtue.  Garland,  I  am  a  Christian,  though 
not  a  member  of  any  church.  I  offer  up  my  little  sacri 
fices,  alone,  in  my  closet,  and  appeal  to  Heaven  for  guid 
ance  and  strength  to  do  right  and  be  a  good  man.  But  if 
ever  I  could  consent  to  abandon  one  of  my  own  in  the  days 
of  her  calamity,  I  should  feel  as  though  I  had  clasped 
hands  with  Satan,  and  had  submitted  to  his  dominion. 
My  conscience  would  rebuke  me,  as  uttei'ly  unworthy  ever 
again  to  seek  blessings  from  above.  I  could  not  kneel  to 
God  while  neglecting  and  ignoring  so  great  and  clamoring 
a  duty.  This  spoiler  with  whom  we  have  to  deal  will  be 
set  free  to-day.  I  have  already  given  you  an  outline  of 
what  will  be  his  defense.  How  it  is  that  honest  men  will 
swear  him  innocent  I  do  not  even  imagine  ;  but  that  they 
will  do  so  I  have  no  doubt,  and  am  equally  certain  that 
they  have  not  been  suborned.  He  is  guilty.  You  know 
it, — and  I  know  it.  Who,  then,  will  assert  Justice  ?  Where 
is  the  champion  of  Rebecca  Ruthven  ?" 

The  young  minister,  who  had  listened  attentively  and 
excitedly,  seemed  ready  to  shout  the  slogan  of  Justice 
and  Retribution,  and  wield  the  sword  of  execution.  Reach 
ing  out  his  hand,  which  Cassel  firmly  grasped,  with  quiv 
ering  lips  he  said,— - 


OR    CORA    GLENCOE.  449 

"  Whatever  the  end,  is,  you,  my  bold  brother,  are  the 
chief  of  all  my  friends  May  God  bless  you,  and  may 
He  strengthen  and  direct  me." 

"But  I  am  not  done  with  this  matter  yet,"  answered 
Cassel ;  and  he  took  from  his  pocket-book  and  unfolded 
a  sheet  of  closely-written  manuscript.  "  I  have  referred 
you  to  the  Olden  Law,  and  now  I  wish  to  give  you  the 
law  of  the  present  day  upon  this  prime  subject.  America 
is  a  broad  country,  and  its  multiform  government  might 
well  be  called  a  many-headed  monster.  Out  of  these  many 
heads,  however,  there  are  a  few  which  spit  no  venom 
except  for  the  Evil  Doer,. — and  when,  in  this  connection, 
I  speak  of  the  Evil  Doer,  I  refer  to  the  present  interest, 
the  Ravisher  of  Chastity.  Let  me  give  you  an  introspec 
tion  of  diversified  moral  and  legal  ethics.  There  are  some 
American  communities  of  which  I  am  proud, — there  are 
others  of  which  I  am  utterly  ashamed."  Cassel  then  read 
from  his  manuscript. 

"  In  Louisiana,  the  Ravisher  suffers  death,  by  the  law. 

"  In  South  Carolina,  the  Ravisher  suffers  death,  by  the 
law. 

"  In  Delaware,  the  Ravisher  suffers  death,  by  the  law. 

"  The  above  three  States  are  the  Golden-Heads. 

"  In  Maine,  the  Ravisher  is  imprisoned  for  life. 

"  In  Massachusetts,  the  Ravisher  is  imprisoned  for  life. 

"In  Connecticutt,  the  Ravisher  is  imprisoned  for  life. 

"  In  Maryland,  the  Ravisher  is  imprisoned  for  life. 

"In  Alabama,  the  Ravisher  is  imprisoned  for  life. 

"  In  Mississippi,  the  Ravisher  is  imprisoned  for  life. 

"  The  above  six  States  are  the  Silver-Heads. 

"In  Pennsylvania,  the  punishment  is  fifteen  years  iu 
prison,  and  not  exceeding  one  thousand  dollars  fine. 

"  In  Rhode  Island,  it  is  ten  years  or  upwards  in  prison. 

"  In  New  York,  it  is  ten  years  or  upwards  in  prison. 

"  In  Missouri,  it  is  five  years  or  upwards  in  prison. 

"  In  Iowa,  it  is  any  term  or  for  life  in  prison. 

"  The  above  five  States  are  the  Copper-Heads. 

"  In  New  Hampshire,  it  is  not  less  than  seven  nor  more 
than  thirty  years  in  prison. 

"  In  Virginia,  it  is  not  less  than  ten  nor  more  than 
twenty  years  in  prison. 

38* 


450  TEKEL, 

"In  Kentucky,  it  is  not  less  than  ten  nor  more  than 
twenty  years  in  prison. 

"  In  Texas,  it  is  not  less  than  five  nor  more  than  fifteen 
years  in  prison. 

"Under  that  law  I  killed  Jonas  Aiken. 

"  In  Ohio,  it  is  not  less  than  three  nor  more  than  twenty 
years  in  prison. 

"  In  Indiana,  it  is  not  less  than  two  nor  more  than 
twenty-one  years  in  prison. 

"  In  Georgia,  it  is  not  less  than  two  nor  more  than  twenty 
years  in  prison. 

"  The  above  seven  States  are  the  Cobra-Heads.  But 
the  following  two  are  the  heads  of  the  Old  Serpent  himself. 

"  In  New  Jersey,  the  punishment  is  not  less  than  a 
fine  of  a  thousand  dollars,  nor  greater  than  fifteen  years  in 
prison. 

"  In  Vermont,  the  punishment  is  not  less  than  a  fine  of 
a  thousand  dollars,  nor  greater  than  twenty  years  in  prison. 

"  Of  the  remaining  States  I  am  not  advised. 

"Now,"  continued  Cassel,  "what  sort  of  a  legal  pano 
rama  is  this  for  lawgivers  to  present — ranging  from  a 
purse  of  gold  up  to  the  scaffold  ?  Is  chastity  only  worth 
one  thousand  dollars  in  Vermont»or  New  Jersey,  when  in 
Massachusetts  it  costs  imprisonment  for  life,  and  in  South 
Carolina  it  costs  death !  What  is  it  that  makes  this 
shameful  schedule  of  prices,  but  the  fact  that  good  men 
suffer  themselves  to  be  governed  by  the  senseless  regula 
tions  of  pusillanimous  idiots  or  scheming  knaves  ?  Let 
me  put  this  question  before  you  in  a  shape  which  cannot 
fail  to  convince  you  that  statutory  law  in  this  connection 
means  absolutely  nothing;  and  that  good  men  can  well 
afford  to  trample  it  under  foot  on  their  way  to  justice. 
What  is  the  difference  between  the  price  of  cotton  at  New 
Orleans  and  at  Liverpool  ?  What  is  the  difference  between 
the  price  of  wheat  at  Chicago  and  New  York  ?  What  is 
the  difference  between  the  price  of  beef  cattle  on  the  Texas 
prairies  and  in  Philadelphia  ?  What  is  the  difference  be 
tween  the  price  of-  any  commodity  here,  and  the  same 
commodity  there  ?  The  difference  is  merely  in  the  cost 
of  carriage,  with  a  fractional  margin  for  legitimate  and 
well-earned  profit.  This  is  Commercial  law,  mind  you, 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  451 

and  is  a  true,  well-digested  code,  applicable  to  the  whole 
world.  On  the  other  hand,  what  is  the  difference  between 
the  legal  value  of  a  woman's  chastity  in  New  Jersey  and 
Delaware?  On  the  New  Jersey  shore  of  the  Delaware 
River  it  will  cost,  perhaps,  a  thousand  dollars.  On  the 
Delaware  shore — just  across  the  stream — it  will  cost 
death.  In  Augusta,  Georgia,  it  will  cost,  perhaps,  two 
years  in  the  penitentiary.  Just  across  the  Savannah 
River,  in  Hamburg,  South  Carolina,  it  will  cost  death. 
In  Vermont,  it  will  cost,  perhaps,  a  thousand  dollars. 
Within  a  distance  of  ten  feet,  two  feet  even,  over  an  imag 
inary  line  and  into  Massachusetts,  it  will  cost  imprison 
ment  for  life.  Who  must  rectify  this  thing,  and  purge  the 
land  of  these  abominations  ?  Can  modest  wives  and 
daughters  come  before  the  public  and  challenge  the  chiv 
alry  of  men  on  such  a  question  ?  They  have  the  right  to 
do  it ;  but  it  should  shame  the  veriest  dastard  in  the  broad 
earth  should  they  be  so  compelled.  But,  Garland,  I  must 
leave  you  now  and  go  to  the  court-house." 

Cassel  went  out,  mounted  the  pale  stallion,  and  rapidly 
traversed  the  forest,  mile  after  mile,  until  he  reached  the 
county  seat. 

As  soon  as  Cassel  had  gone,  the  young  minister  fell 
upon  his  knees,  and  besieged  Heaven  with  prayer. 

"  Thou  who  hast  created  us,  and  breathed  into  us  the 
breath  of  life,  and  revealed  to  us  Thy  Kingdom,  and 
charged  us  to  build  it  up  pure  and  undefiled,  I  come 
before  Thee  as  a  child  cometh  to  its  father,  and  beseech 
Thee  for  the  moving  of  Thy  Spirit  upon  my  soul,  that  I 
may  know  and  feel  that  which  I  should  do.  Tell  me,  O 
thou  Great  Jehovah,  shall  this  demon  die?  Not  that 
/  may  reap  vengeance,  which  is  Thine,  but  that  he  is  a 
Spoiler,  and  goeth  about  as  one  sent  from  Hell,  seeking 
of  innocents  that  he  may  destroy  them.  Is  it  sinful,  just 
God,  for  me  to  feel  that  every  man  who  meeteth  him 
should  slay  him  ?  Teach  me,  in  behalf  of  Thy  Kingdom 
on  earth,  and  if  my  soul  has  grasped  the  wrong,  with 
hold  me  by  divine  and  potent  influence,  and  I  will  bow 
the  head  while  this  mighty  evil  passeth  by.  Seven  times 
will  I  come  before  Thee,  O  Jehovah,  in  my  extreme ;  and 
the  seventh  shall  be  the  Sabbath  of  the  soul,— in  which  I 


452  TEKEL, 

implore  Thee,  Lord  of  Hosts,  to  purge  me  pure,  and  give 
me  to  know  if  I  shall  go  forth  and  smite  this  Philistine." 

Never  did  man  pray,  and  beseech,  with  purer  motives, 
or  more  fervent,  passionate  sincerity.  Rising  from  his 
knees,  the  young  minister  sat  himself  down  and  waited, 
as  for  a  Voice,  or  the  sensible  motion  of  the  Spirit  over 
his  soul.  Seven  times  he  prostrated  himself,  in  all  the 
agony  and  ire  of  earnestness,  and  waited  each  time  for 
the  interposition  or  direction  of  some  invisible  monitor. 
But  neither  Yoice,  nor  Spirit,  nor  secret  helmsman  came  to 
him,  to  influence  or  direct  him.  He  was  left  utterly  and 
singly  to  his  mortal  resources.  Finally,  to  himself  he 
said, — 

"  God,  whose  ways  are  past  finding  out,  suffers  me  to 
determine  this  temporal  issue  by  the  light  and  weight  of 
temporal  wisdom.  All  that  is  in  me  of  intelligence  or 
emotion  urges  the  decree  that  this  demon  must  die; 
and  by  the  love  which  I  bear  to  Rebecca,  and  by  her 
purity  which  has  been  polluted,  and  by  her  life  which  has 
been  ruthlessly  blasted,  and,  by  the  living  God,  he  shall 
die  I" 

Garland  quivered  with  emotion.  No  voice  or  print  can 
tell  of  the  agony  of  that  day — a  day  of  prayer,  and  wrest 
ling,  and  storm.  But  his  mind  was  now  made  up,  and 
he  became  as  calm  as  a  statue  of  Retribution. 

The  hours  passed,  and  the  afternoon  was  waning.  But 
already  a  stern  and  illustrative  scene  had  been  put  upon 
the  stage  of  human  life,  away  at  the  county  seat  where 
throngs  had  gathered  to  witness  the  eccentric  workings  of 
the  law. 

The  pale  stallion  stretched  gallantly  away  through  the 
forest,  and  the  woods  and  the  hills  rang  with  the  music  of 
his  hoofs.  At  length  the  sound  of  his  busy  feet  was  borne 
upon  the  wind  through  the  open  windows  of  Garland's 
study.  The  young  minister  recognized  the  rapid  hoof 
strokes,  and  waited  in  a  deathlike  calm  for  his  friend  to 
appear.  Cassel  opened  the  door,  and  stood  upon  the 
threshold,  like  Hero  in  the  very  front  of  Victory.  A 
stern  but  celestial  beauty  beamed  from  his  matchless 
countenance,  and  his  right  hand  was  pointing  aloft  as  if 
in  triumph.  Garland,  as  he  looked  upon  him,  knew  that 


OR   CORA    GLEN  CO  E.  453 

he  had  hardly  dreamed  of  a  more  glorious  incarnation 
than  the  youthful,  rosy,  and  invincible  form  before  him. 
Mustering  his  voice  he  asked, — 

"Watchman,  what  of  the  night?" 

Cassel,  still  keeping  his  position  on  the  threshold,  with 
a  smile  of  stern  triumph  replied, — 

"  Moses  yet  liveth :  and  the  Law  of  God  and  Human 
Nature  is  paramount  to  the  statutory  fulmen  of  imbe 
ciles." 

"  What  is  the  decree  of  the  court  ?" 

"  Of  the  court!  It  is  naught:  but  there  was  a  Mosaic 
decree  outside  of  the  court,  and  the  spoiler  is  dead." 

Garland  uttered  a  cry  of  surprise,  of  relief,  of  satisfac 
tion,  of  almost  everything  except  of  joy,  for  joy  was  for 
ever  banished  from  his  breast.  The  two  young  men 
looked  into  each  other's  eyes  long  and  earnestly.  A  fas 
cination  drew  them  together,  and  as  they  locked  hands  in 
a  manly  clasp,  they  were  of  kin.  The  fates  of  Diana 
Rapid  and  Rebecca  Ruthven  bound  them  each  to  each 
with  a  peculiar  tie.  And  although  Cassel  had  slain  his 
foe,  and  Garland  had  deliberately  elected  himself  to  do  in 
like  manner,  in  all  the  broad  land  of  the  free  there  were 
not  two  nobler  hearts  at  beat,  or  gentler,  purer  souls. 

"  Garland,  sit  down,  and  let  me  tell  you  of  it  as  briefly 
as  may  be.  We  had  two  courts  to-day — one  de  jure,  the 
other  de  facto.  Carroll  May  almost  set  the  building  afire 
with  an  irruption  of  burning  and  sententious  eloquence 
which  amazed  every  one,  even  myself  who  had  primed 
him  for  this  occasion.  But  no  speech  could  amount  to 
anything  in  the  face  of  an  invincible  alibi ;  and  Carroll's 
effort  was  not  so  much  leveled  at  the  accused  as  at  the 
Crime,  wherever  it  might  be  committed,  and  in  the  latter 
respect  it  carried  conviction  with  it.  The  trial  in  the 
court-house  ended  as  I  predicted  to  you ;  but  a  trial  in 
the  grove  hard  by,  where  were  gathered  all  of  our  best 
citizens,  closed  with  the  sentence  of  death  and  the  execu 
tion  of  the  wretch.  The  structure  of  this  widely-discussed 
alibi  was  based  upon  a  trick,  which  was  thoroughly  ex 
posed  by  an  honest  and  truthful  old  negro  man  belonging 
to  the  Widow  Hopkins,  but  whose  testimony  in  the  legal 
court  was  inadmissible.  He  was  on  the  ground  to-day, 


454  TEKEL, 

having  driven  the  carriage  of  his  mistress,  who  was  in 
attendance  on  the  trial.  It  seems  that  the  negro  had  told 
his  mistress  something  about  Hines  and  Butler,  and  that 
she  came  to  court  to-day  to  see  what  could  be  done  in 
behalf  of  justice.  She  was  soon  in  consultation  with 
Captain  Gale,  and  very  promptly  thereaftentthe  captain 
was  in  consultation  with  a  number  of  staid  citizens.  A 
jury  of  sixty  men,  the  best  men  in  the  county,  was 
organized,  among  whom  was  Captain  Gale  himself,  and 
an  immense  throng  of  people  followed  this  jury  to  the 
grove  just  in  the  rear  of  the  court-house.  I  was  appointed 
to  question  the  old  negro  and  elicit  what  he  might  know. 
I  have  his  testimony  here,  written  down.  I  wrote  it  my 
self,  and  then,  for  conscience  sake,  cross-examined  him 
before  the  jury.  He  had  told  the  simple  truth  in  the 
beginning,  and  he  did  not  vary  from  it  in  the  end.  The 
consciences  of  the  jury  were  set  at  rest.  I  will  read  you 
the  old  slave's  testimony  in  his  own  words. 

"  '  On  the  day  that  the  sun  was  eclipsed  I  was  at  Mr. 
Nutt's  store,  waiting  for  my  mistress,  who  was  visiting 
some  of  her  friends  in  the  village.  I  had  a  watch  which 
master  give  me  just  before  he  died.  I  wanted  to  set  my 
watch  with  the  sun,  but  there  are  so  many  hills  and  trees 
where  I  live  that  I  can't  see  the  sun  when  it  rises  and  sets. 
I  asked  Mr.  Nutt  to  look  in  the  almanac  and  tell  me  the 
minute  when  the  eclipse  would  begin.  He  told  me  to  put 
my  Watch  with  his  clock,  because  he  said  his  clock  was 
right.  But  I  was  not  satisfied,  and  young  Mr.  Ashton, 
who  was  always  kind  to  me,  looked  in  the  almanac  and 
told  me  to  set  my  watch  at  twenty-two  minutes  past  three, 
at  the  very  first  beginning  of  the  eclipse.  He  then  lit  a 
candle  and  smoked  a  piece  of  glass  and  give  it  to  me,  be 
cause  I  was  thinking  I  could  see  the  eclipse  without  any 
blind  over  my  eyes,  but  he  told  me  I  couldn't.  I  went 
out,  and  when  the  eclipse  commenced  I  set  my  watch,  and 
then  I  went  to  see  if  Mr.  Nutt's  clock  was  right.  It  was 
very  near  right,  maybe  a  minute  too  slow,  and  I  didn't 
think  it  worth  while  to  tell  him  of  such  a  little  difference. 
There  were  several  gentlemen  in  the  store  talking  neigh 
borly,  and  I  went  and  stood  just  outside  the  door  and  was 
listening  to  them.  One  of  them  proposed  to  see  if  the 


OR   CORA    GLEN  CO  E.  455 

eclipse  was  begun,  but  another  said  it  would  be  such  a 
small  affair  that  it  wasn't  worth  looking-  at.  More  than 
twenty  minutes  after  I  set  my  watch,  I  saw  Mr.  Hines 
and  Mr.  Butler  come  running  over  the  hill  road  from  the 
east.  When  they  were  in  a  hundred  yards  or  so  of  the 
store,  they  stopped  running  and  walked  the  balance  of  the 
way.  When  they  come  up  they  blowed  like  they  were 
tired,  and  I  thought  they  had  been  running  a  race.  They 
began  to  talk  to  me,  and  the  gentlemen  in  the  store,  hear 
ing  them,  all  came  out  and  commenced  talking  and  took 
seats  on  a  bench  at  one  side  of  the  door.  Mr.  Nutt  came 
out  also.  Then  Mr.  Hines  and  Mr.  Butler  went  into  the 
store  to  get  a  drink  of  water.  The  water  was  at  the  back 
end,  just  under  the  clock.  They  drank,  and  then  they 
talked  together,  and  then  Mr.  Hines  turned  the  clock  back. 
I  saw  him  through  the  window  I  began  to  think  that 
something  was  strange  about  Mr.  Hines  and  Mr.  Butler, 
and  I  couldn't  keep  from  watching  them  and  listening  to 
them.  Mr.  Butler's  breeches  were  torn,  and  pinned  up 
with  a  thorn,  and  I  thought  I  saw  blood  on  his  clothes, 
but  the  spots  were  covered  with  dust  and  I  was  not  cer 
tain.  They  then  came  out  of  the  store  and  asked  Mr.  Nutt 
if  his  clock  was  right,  and  he  said  that  it  was.  Then  they 
told  the  gentlemen  to  remember  the  time  when  they  got  to 
the  store,  because  they  said  they  had  made  a  bet  with  some 
of  the  men  that  live  down  in  the  shore  cabins  on  the  Star 
board  Strand,  that  they  would  travel  from  the  strand  to 
Mr.  Nutt's  stor6  in  a  given  time,  and  that  Mr.  Nutt  was 
to  set  down  the  time  of  their  arrival  and  be  referee.  Mr. 
Nutt  looked  at  his  clock  and  wrote  down  the  time  on  the 
outside  of  his  store  door,  on  the  upper  panel,  and  all  the 
gentlemen  looked  at  it  and  promised  to  remember  it.  Then 
I  thought  Mr.  Hines  and  Mr.  Butler  were  just  playing  a 
trick,  and  I  said  nothing.  Late  in  the  evening  just  before 
sundown,  and  just  as  my  mistress  was  coming  to  start 
home,  I  saw  Mr.  Hines  go  and  get  some  more  water,  and 
he  then  turned  the  clock  forward  again,  while  Mr.  Nutt  and 
the  other  gentlemen  were  talking  to  my  mistress  I  didn't 
think  much  more  about  it  until  I  heard  that  Mr.  Hines 
was  in  jail,  and  was  going  to  be  cleared  by  proving  that 
he  got  to  Mr.  Nutt's  store  before  the  time  that  the  eclipse 


456  TEKEL, 

commenced.  I  knowed  he  hadn't  got  there  before  the 
eclipse,  and  I  told  my  mistress  about  it.  She  told  me  to 
keep  my  tongue  until  the  day  of  trial,  and  she  brought  me 
here  to-day  to  see  if  I  could  do  any  good  by  giving  my 
evidence  to  the  people.' 

"  That,"  said  Cassel,  "  was  what  exploded  the  theory 
which  up  to  this  time  had  withheld  the  arm  of  the  people. 
Mr.  Nutt  and  several  of  the  witnesses  by  whom  the  alibi 
was  established  in  the  court-house,  were  brought  before 
the  court  in  the  grove,  and  confirmed  the  negro's  testi 
mony,  except  only  that  none  of  them  had  seen  Hines  tam 
pering  with  the  clock.  The  evidence  was  conclusive  to 
every  one,  and  when  the  question  was  put,  '  Shall  Matthew 
Hines  be  hung  ?'  sixty  stern  voices  responded  My,'  and 
the  multitude  shouted  an  Amen  which  made  the  grove 
tremble  in  all  its  leaves.  When  the  criminal  came  out  of 
the  court-house,  his  face  beaming  with  wicked  triumph, 
the  jury  of  sixty  took  him  from  the  sheriff,  and  told  him 
to  prepare  for  doom.  Finding  himself  suddenly  hedged 
about  by  a  frowning  array  of  honorable  citizens,  he  became 
trepid,  and  cried  for  mercy.  But  his  cry  was  as  unavail 
ing  as  the  cry  of  his  victim,  and  no  man  gave  ear  to  it. 
He  acknowledged  his  guilt," — here  Garland  shivered, — 
"  and  refused  to  say  his  last  possible  prayer.  He  was 
hung,  and  his  body  delivered  to  the  coroner.  Now  let  me 
tell  you  who  composed  the  jury  of  sixty.  One-third  were 
members  of  your  chui'ch.  About  a  third  were  personal 
friends  of  hers.  The  remainder  were  citizens,  strangers 
to  both  you  and  her,  whose  sense  of  justice  alone  actuated 
them."  After  a  pause,  Cassel  continued:  "Garland,  I 
will  not  mock  you  with  my  sympathy,  for  I  know  how 
like  the  stars  this  visitation  is  beyond  the  reach  of  any 
thing  on  earth.  But  I  have  a  word  of  counsel.  Do  not 
you  mock  her  with  an  offer  of  your  hand.  I  have  seen 
her.  My  own  history  gives  me  the  right  to  see  all  such. 
And  I  tell  }rou  truly  that  the  only  wish  that  lives  within 
her  heart  is  the  wish  to  die.  She  grieves  for  you,  Garland, 
and  bears  her  world  of  woe  gently  as  a  broken  angel,  as  is 
her  nature.  She  hopes  to  meet  you  beyond  the  skies,  with 
all  her  vows  intact,  and  wed  you  There.  1  have  felt  it  my 
duty  to  be  able  to  tell  you  all,  and  to  tell  you  of  her.  For 
give  me  if  I  have  done  it  rudely." 


OR    CORA    GLEN  CO  E.  457 

The  young  minister  bowed  himself  in  unutterable  an 
guish,  and  Cassel  softly  withdrew  and  left  him  in  the 
boundless  desert  of  a  hopeless  life.  Ah,  the  sweeping- 
agony  that  rushed  like  bitter,  bitter  seas  over  his  soul,  and 
continually  overwhelmed  it!  There  was  no  goodly  spot 
this  side  the  tomb  which  would  ever  again  give  rest  to 
the  weary  feet  of  Garland  Hope  and  Rebecca  Ruthven. 

[NOTE. — The  statutes  to  which  Cassel,  in  the  foregoing 
chapter,  has  referred,  were  cotemporary  with  the  scenes 
then  enacting.  What  changes  may  have  been  wrought  by 
the  subsequent  American  confusion,  we  are,  at  this  time, 
unable  to  inform  the  reader.] 


CHAPTER  XLI. 

CORA  returned  to  Philadelphia.  She  became  the  light 
of  the  house  where  she  had  erst  been  the  shadow. 

To  account  for  this  great  change  she  had  to  tell  her 
mother  her  sweet  little  secrets. 

Cassel  came  to  see  Cora  in  her  own  home,  and  the 
Hurons,  including  Cora,  were  delighted  with  him. 

Cassel  still  kept  his  head-quarters  in  New  York.  One 
day  he  appeared  at  O'Dare's  office,  and  said, — 

"  O'Dare,  the  world  is  soon  coming  to  an  end." 

"And  I  suppose  you  think  that  when  it  does,  Cassel 
Rapid  will  be  at  the  tip  end  of  it,"  responded  O'Dare, 
with  his  usual  impudence. 

"  Yes, — and  I  hope  you'll  be  at  the  other  end,"  laughed 
Cassel. 

"  Just  so.  We  can  then  see-saw  the  old  craft  out  of 
existence." 

"But,  O'Dare, — I'm  going  to  be  married!" 

"What  of  that?     Any  leatherheacl  can  be  married." 

"But,  my  complimentary  friend,  it  suggests  a  subject 
in  connection  with  which  I  may  have  been  unparclonably 
remiss." 

39 


458  TEKEL, 

"  What  kind  of  a  subject?     Is  Legion  the  name  of  it?" 

"Notwithstanding  our  long  and  intimate  association — " 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  interrupted  O'Dare,  "  I  never  be 
come  intimate  with  anybody  but  my  wife." 

"  The  very  subject  in  question,"  persisted  Cassel;  "for 
I  cannot  for  the  life  of  me  say  whether  you  have  a  wife 
or  not.  I  have  all  along  presumed  that  you  have  not — 
nor  ever  had." 

"Nobody  ever  appears  to  think  that  it  would  be 
'regular  order'  for  me  to  have  a  wife." 

"  Precisely,"  answered  Cassel.  "  You  are  so  con 
foundedly  self-sufficient,  that  an  appendage  strikes  the 
inquiring  mind  as  altogether  superfluous." 

"  The  devil  it  does !  Why  can't  Hector  O'Dare  enjoy 
the  tender  and  essential  rib  as  well  as  you,  you  green 
goose?" 

"  Because  it  don't  appear  in  character  that  you  should 
ever  have  been  a  pensive  and  elegiac  swain,  blacking  your 
mustache,  and  curling  your  hair,  and  writing  sonnets  to 
your  'mistress's  eyebrow,'"  laughed  Cassel. 

"  Never  answered  to  that  description  in  my  life.  But 
in  a  world  of  pangs  and  penalties,  where  good  to  bad  is 
like  pigmy  to  giant,  do  you  suppose  that  Hector  O'Dare 
would  ignore  the  main  chance  !  That  Hector  O'Dare, — 
I  like  that  name," —  drolly  observed  the  detective,  "that 
Hector  O'Dare,  who  never  misses  his  man,  would  stand 
by  like  a  split  stick  and  miss  his  woman?  No,  sir!  He 
would  never  make  a  miss,  but  a  mistress,  of  her.  There's 
a  pun  for  you,  if  you  have  the  sense  to  comprehend  it." 

"  A  very  silly  one,  requiring  about  as  much  brain  to 
comprehend  as  to  perpetrate." 

"  You  know  what  I  told  you  once,"  said  O'Dare,  "  about 
my  choosing  a  fool  for  an  audience  ?" 

"  For  that  matter  you  need  never  lack  an  audience;  just 
talk  to  yourself,"  laughed  Cassel. 

"  What  time  do  you  dine  ?"  asked  O'Dare,  abruptly. 

"I  keep  banker's  hours." 

"  It  wants  half  an  hour,  then,  to  your  dinner-time.  I 
take  my  meals  whenever  I  can  get  the  chance.  But  come 
dine  with  me  to-day,  and  I  will  show  you  what,  when  you 
are  married  and  housekeeping,  you  will  never  be  spry 


OR   CORA    OLENCOE.  459 

enough  to  show  me — that  is,  a  well-served  dinner  after  ten 
minutes'  notice." 

O'Dare  took  Cassel  to  his  residence,  which,  in  appear 
ance,  was  perfectly  respectable  in  exterior,  and  even  lux 
urious  within,  but  in  no  sense  ostentatious  from  either 
point  of  view.  Entering  the  parlor,  the  detective  sprung 
a  bell.  A  tidy  little  girl  appeared  in  a  few  moments,  and 
stood  for  orders. 

"Ask  Mrs.  O'Dare  and  the  children  to  favor  us  with 
their  company,"  and  the  little  handmaid  disappeared. 

"Aha!"  exclaimed  Cassel,  "you've  been  married  some 
tfme,  I  begin  to  see." 

Presently,  Mrs.  O'Dare,  with  a  little  boy  and  girl,  re 
spectively  six  and  four  years  of  age,  entered  the  parlor. 
The  gentlemen  arose,  and  introductions  followed. 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  my  father's  guest,"  said  young  Hec 
tor. 

"And  I  am  glad  to  see  your  father's  boy,"  replied  Cas 
sel,  patting  the  sprightly  boy  on  the  cheek. 

"  Father  told  you  my  Sunday  name,"  said  little  Kath 
leen. 

"  And  what  is  your  every-day  name  ?"  asked  Cassel. 

"  Froggie." 

"  That's  because  she  can  go  like  a  frog,"  said  young 
Hector. 

"  Jump  like  a  frog,  or  sing  like  a  frog  ?"  asked  Cassel. 

"  She  sings,  and  /jump,"  answered  the  little  brother. 

Mrs.  O'Dare  was  a  fresh-looking  and  fine-looking  bru 
nette,  with  flashing  eyes,  active  countenance,  much  grace 
of  person,  good  manners,  and  was,  on  rare  occasions, 
when  she  got  her  dander  up,  master  of  the  house. 

Conversing  readily,  and  with  a  genial  face,  she  was 
pleasantly  at  ease  with  Cassel,  whom  she  well  knew  by 
repute  through  her  husband.  Turning  to  O'Dare  she 
inquired, — 

"  Are  you  very  busy  to-day  ?" 

"  No,"  incautiously  replied  the  husband. 

"We'll  dine,  then,  at  four." 

"  Half-past  three,"  suggested  O'Dare. 

"  That  will  be  in  ten  minutes,"  protested  the  wife. 

"  Just  so,"  admitted  O'Dare,  trying  to  give  her  a  wink. 


460  TEKEL, 

But  she  wouldn't  take  any  wink.  Turning  with  a  half- 
saucy  smile  to  Cassel,  she  said, — 

"Mr.  Rapid,  did  you  ever  see  such  a  man?  He  will 
even  come  home  from  a  week's  absence,  and  at  an  odd 
hour,  and  he  must  have  his  meal  in  five,  ten,  or  fifteen 
minutes.  I  can  generally  give  him  all  he  deserves  within 
the  required  time.  But  when  he  brings  distinguished 
guests,  and  expects  me  to  act  Lamp  to  Aladdin,  I  some 
times  revolt,"  and  she  cast  a  mischievous,  daring  glance 
at  her  lord.  "However,  he  shall  have  his  meal  in  ten 
minutes,  if  business  is  pressing,  but  I  invite  you  to  stay 
and  take  dinner  with  me."  Saying  which  she  arose,  went 
out,  and  soon  returned  with,  "  Mr.  O'Dare,  your  meal  is 
ready,  and  I  am  ready  to  serve  it."  With  the  least  pos 
sible  dash  she  turned  away,  casting  a  black-eyed,  half- 
defiant  glance  over  her  well-set  shoulder. 

O'Dare  was  whipped, — and  he  was  aware  that  Cassel, 
with  keen  enjoyment,  appreciated  it  and  would  run  him 
heavily.  Cunningly  he  observed, — 

"  She  knows  exactly  how  to  make  me  love  her." 

Cassel  could  stand  it  no  longer,  and  his  hearty,  silver 
laugh  rang  through  the  house. 

"Did  you  see  those  black  eyes?"  asked  O'Dare,  act 
ually  blushing. 

"  Yes, — and  I  see  whom  they  vanquish,"  laughed  Cassel. 

"  My  odd  hours  are  too  bad,"  said  O'Dare.  "  She 
stands  it  just  a  little  longer  than  she  ought  to,  and  then 
she  raises  the  standard  of  revolt.  I  glory  in  her  spunk." 

Mrs.  O'Dare  came  to  the  door  and  inquired  of  her  hus 
band, — 

"  Will  you  have  your  hasty  pudding,  or  dine  with  Mr. 
Rapid  and  myself?" 

"I  believe  I'll  not  hurry  the  cook,"  replied  O'Dare,  and 
the  trio  laughed  merrily. 

Mrs.  O'Dare,  pleased  and  relenting,  came  in  and  sat 
down.  A  very  agreeable  half  hour  preceded  a  very  well- 
served  dinner,  and  O'Dare  behaved  himself  for  several 
consecutive  weeks  afterward. 

Cassel  Rapid,  whose  faultless  symmetry  was  the  delight 
of  his  tailor,  and  Cora,  whose  bridal  loveliness  we  fain 


OR   CORA    GLENCOE.  461 

would,  but  cannot,  describe,  stood  up  before  the  venera 
ble  Mr.  Hope,  and  a  host  of  gathered  friends,  in  the  bouse 
t»f  the  Philadelphia  Hurons,  and  were  married. 

Prominent  among  the  guests  were — the  Hope  family, 
except  Garland — Captain  Gale  and  his  family,  who  came 
up  in  the  Whitecap — Linda  Boyd  and  Miss  Lightner — 
Hector  O'Dare  and  his  black-eyed  wife — and  Harry  Gray. 
The  latter,  when  the  ceremony  and  numberless  congratu 
lations  were  endured,  came  forward  and  said, — 

"  Cassel,  you  beat  me, — but  I  always  thought  you  would, 
for  you  had  the  near  way  on  me.  I've  been  preparing  for 
this  for  some  time,  and  although  it  is  bitter-sweet,  I  bear 
no  malice,  and  truly  hope  that  you  will  be  as  happy  as  I 
ivould  have  been." 

"  Mr.  Gray,"  said  Cora,  who  always  liked  Harry,  and 
felt  willing  to  indemnify  him,  "I  have  a  sister  far  lovelier 
than  myself.  See  her  there." 

Harry  looked  about,  and  saw  Gussie  Huron,  fresh,  in 
genuous,  and  sweet  as  Hebe.  He  got  himself  desperately 
in  love  with  her,  and  eventually  succeeded  in  making  her 
his  bride. 

* 

Johnny  Gale  stood  six-feet-one  in  his  wedding-boots, 
and  was  as  fine  a  pyramid  of  flesh,  good  humor,  and  good 
sense  as  ever  took  the  vows.  His  rich,  abundant  black 
hair,  fine  forehead,  rouge  cheeks,  scarlet  lips,  shaded  by  a 
boyish  mustache,  together  with  his  splendid  physique, 
gave  him  an  appearance  brave,  commanding,  and  superb. 

"Did  you  ever  see  a  person  improve  as  Johnny  has?" 
whispered  Cora  to  Cassel.  "  He  looks  like  a  young  noble 
man." 

."He  is  a  young  nobleman,"  answered  Cassel.  "Look 
at  Linda, — fresh  and  delicious  as  the  blush  side  of  a  ripe 
peach.  She  becomes  '  Mrs.  Gale'  with  ideas  very  dif 
ferent  from  those  with  which  she  became  'Mrs.  Boyd.' 
She  is  in  love  now  for  the  first  time.  She  calls  Johnny 
her  handsome  giant." 

"  She  is  greatly  indebted  to  you,  'her  brother  Cassel,'  " 
said  Cora. 

"  Not  more  than  I  am  indebted  to  her  for  her  innocent, 
beautiful,  and  unfailing  affection.  There  was  a  time  when 


462  TEKEL, 

none  but  Linda  could  refresh  the  waste  places  in  my  breast. 
I  have  always  been  rejoiced  that  she  returned  Johnny's 
love,  for  they  will  suit  each  other  as  the  clapper  suits  the 
bell." 

Johnny,  being  married,  abandoned  his  engineering 
studies.  He  sold  out  the  oil  farm  in  Pennsylvania,  gath 
ered  together  the  financial  resources  of  his  wife,  invested 
them  in  real  estate,  and  contented  himself  with  collecting 
rents,  and,  eventually,  making  fireside  trips  to  Banbury 
Cross. 

Carroll  May  devoted  himself  to  business,  with  one  eye, 
however,  fixed  upon  a  certain  stylish  girl,  the  daughter  of 
Mr.  Gore,  of  the  firm  of  Hallum  &  Gore,  his  employers. 
Carroll  promised  to  succeed  with  some  brilliancy  in  his 
profession. 

Cassel  Rapid  had  recognized  in  Miss  Lightner  the  most 
of  those  excellent  qualities  which  belong  to  our  superior 
women.  Although  she  maintained  herself  bravely,  she 
was  entirely  self-dependent,  in  sickness  or  in  health,  in 
success  or  failure.  Cassel,  whose  heart  was  as  tender  as 
it  was  imperial  and  dauntless,  felt  a  sympathy  for  her 
which  would  not  let  him  rest.  She  was  too  modest,  or 
•too  something-or-other,  ever  to  "catch"  beaus.  Cassel 
determined  to  catch  one  for  her.  "  Why  shan't  she  have 
a  honey-moon  as  well  as  the  rest  of  us  ?"  asked  Cassel  of 
himself.  He  and  Cora  continued  to  conspire  against  Miss 
Lightner's  maidenhood,  until  they  succeeded  in  making  her 
the  mistress  of  a  comfortable  establishment,  and  of  a 
worthy  husband  whom  she  found  no  difficulty  in  loving 
and  esteeming. 

Rebecca  Ruthven  is  a  living  statue,  dead  to  the  world. 
Her  mother  never  recovered  from  the  pulmonary  illness 
superinduced  by  the  destruction  of  her  family.  Rebecca, 
an  orphan,  lives  in  the  family  of  old  Mr.  Hope.  Garland, 
who  could  not  bear  to  be  near  her  and  not  with  her,  left 
Creswood,  and  accepted  some  distant  Christian  mission. 
It  was  his  wish  that  Rebecca  should  live  with  his  father's 
family,  and  be  treated  in  all  respects  as  a  daughter. 

Time  passed,  and  brought  its  inevitable  changes.  The 
sea  had  long  been  encroaching  upon  Gale  Island,  and  its 
banks  had  been  gradually  tumbling  in,  until  the  anchor- 


OR   CORA    GLEN  CO  E.  463 

age  was  destroyed.  A  furious  storm,  which  maddened 
the  ocean  and  shook  the  Atlantic  shores,  and  wrapped  the 
island  in  a  shroud  of  foam,  while  it  rocked  and  trembled 
with  the  shock  of  thundering,  frantic  waves,  beat  down 
the  loamy  bulwarks,  cleft  the  soil  with  deep  gulches,  and 
rendered  the  island  uninhabitable.  Captain  Gale,  who 
had  made  his  fortune,  abandoned  his  island  home,  and 
settled  in  the  suburbs  of  Philadelphia,  where  Caddy  met 
with  her  fate,  and  was  married. 

O'Dare  is  still  upon  the  qui  vive,  and  malefactors  had 
better  continue  to  look  lively. 

Uncle  Jessie,  who  lives  with  Johnny  and  Linda  and 
the  children,  at  the  "  Gale"  mansion,  was  at  length  forced 
to  fall  back,  for  self-consistency  and  excuse,  upon  the  old 
couplet,  that, — 

"A  little  nonsense  now  and  then 
la  relished  by  the  wisest  men." 

Postscript,  in  lieu  of  Preface. — Reader,  this  is  no  tale 
of  Fiction,  or  of  Faction.  Neither  is  it  factitious,  but  a 
feeble  presentation  of  Fact.  We  have  not  drawn  upon 
Imagination  for  either  incident  or  example,  for  every  j 
morning  paper,  almost,  has  vouchsafed  us  both.  Our  '* 
trouble  has  alone  been  in  the  finding  of  words,  active  and 
potent  enough  to  tell  the  simple  Truth.  Neither  have  we 
any  such  wrongs  to  avenge  or  lament,  near  or  remote. 
But  if,  by  this  indirect  instrumentality,  we  shall  be  able 
to  save  a  single  pure  woman  or  innocent  virgin  from  the 
Spoiler,  we  shall  ever  feel  well  repaid  for  this  our  labor 
in  that  behalf.  If  we  can  but  direct  the  attention  of  a 
single  intelligent  and  honorable  legislator  to  the  disgrace 
ful,  senseless  incongruity  of  American  statutes  which 
bear  directly  upon  the  core  of  every  honest,  virtuous 
heart,  we  shall  indeed  feel  greatly  gratified  and  encour 
aged.  The  price  of  Gold  is  the  same  throughout  the 
Union.  Is  Chastity — the  purity  of  our  women — less 
precious,  or  less  to  be  considered,  than  Gold  !  Who  will 
dare  assert  it  ? 


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"The  story  is  full  of  vivacity  and  of 
thrilling  interest" — Pittsburg  Gazette. 

"Tricotrin  is  a  work  of  absolute  power, 
some  truth  and  deep  interest." — N.  Y. 
Day  Book. 


Granville   de  Vigne;    or,  Held  in   Bondage.     A 

Tale  of  the  Day.     By  OUIDA,  author  of  "  Idalia,"  "  Tricotrin,"  &c. 
121110.     Cloth,  $2. 


"  This  is  one  of  the  most  powerful  and 
ipicy  works  of  fiction  which  the  present 


century,  so  prolific  in  light  literature,  has 
produced." 


Strathmore;  or.  Wrought  by  His  Own  Hand.    A 

Novel.    By  OUIDA,  author  of  "  Granville  de  Vigne,"  &c.     121110. 
Cloth,  $2. 

"It  is  romance  of  the  intense  school, 
but  it  is  \yritten  with  more  power,  fluency 
and  brilliancy  than  the  works  of  Miss 


Braddon  and  Mrs.  Wood,  while  its  scenes 
and  characters  are  taken  from  high  life." 
— Boston  Transcript. 


Chandos.  A  Novel.    By  Ouida,  author  of  "Strath- 

more,"  "  Idalia,"  &c.     I2mo.     Cloth,  $2. 

what  exaggerated  portraiture  of  scenes  and 
characters,  but  it  is  a  story  of  surpassing 
power  and  interest." — PUtsburg  Evening 


Chronicle. 


"It  is  a  story  of  love  and  hatred,  of 
affection  and  jealou'sy,  of  intrigue  and  de 
votion.  .  .  .  We  think  this  novel  will  at 
tain  a  wide  popularity,  especially  among 


"  Those  who  have  read  these  two  last- 
named  brilliant  works  of  fiction  (Granville 
de  Vigne  and  Strathmore)  will  be  sure  to 
read  Chandos.  It  is  characterized  by  the 
game  gorgeous  coloring  of  style  and  some- 

Idalia.    A  Novel.    By  Ouida,  author  of  "Strath- 

more,"  "  Tricotrin,"  &c.     I2mo.     Cloth,  $2. 

those  whose  refined  taste  enables  them  to 
appreciate  and  enjoy  what  is  truly  beau 
tiful  in  literature."  —  Albany  Evening 
Journal. 

Under    Tivo  Flags.     A  Story  of  the  Household 

and  the  Desert.  By  OUIDA,  author  of  "  Tricotrin,"  "  Granville  de 
Vigne,"  &c.  I2mo.  Cloth,  $2. 

"  No  one  will  be  able  to  resist  its  fasci-      of  Ouida.     It  is  enough  of  itself  to  estab- 
nation  who  once  begins  its  perusal." — 
Philada.  Evening  Bulletin. 

"  This  is  probably  the  most  popular  work 

Ouida's  Novelettes.     First   Series,   Cecil  Castle- 

maine's  Gage.  Second  Series,  Randolph  Gordon.  Third  Series 
Beatrice  Boville.  Each  of  these  volumes  contains  a  selection  of 
f'OuipA's"  Popular  Tales  and  Stories.  I2mo.  Cloth,  each  $1.75. 

"  The  many  works  already  in  print  by  of  pleasing  narratives  and  adventures  alive 

this  versatile  authoress  have  established  to  the  "memory  of  all  who  are  given  to 

her  reputation  as  a  novelist,  and  these  romance  and  fiction." — N.  Haven  your. 
short  stories  coutrir-nte  largely  to  the  stock 


lish  her  fame  as  one  of  the  most  eloquent 
and  graphic  writers  of  fiction  now  living." 
— Chicago  Journal  of  Commerce. 


PUBLICATIONS  OF  J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  &•  CO. 


The  Rifle  and  the  Hound  in  Ceylon.  By  Sir 
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trations.  i6mo.  Extra  cloth,  $1.50. 


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dashing  achievements,  and  we  can  guar 
antee  that  no  one  interested  in  such  sub 
jects  at  all  can  begin  to  read  without 


finishing  it  to  the  last  line,  or  can  lay  it 
down  without  unbounded  admiration  for 
the  versatile  powers  of  its  hero  and  author. " 
— The  Round  Table. 


Cast   Up   by  the   Sea.     A  Book  for  Boys  from 

Eight  Years  Old  to  Eighty.  By  SIR  SAMUEL  WHITE  BAKER, 
M.  A.,  F.  R.  G.  S.,  &c.  With  eleven  Illustrations  by  Huard. 
l6mo.  Cheap  edition,  cloth,  65  cts.  Fine  edition,  tinted  paper, 
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too,  will  find  themselves  growing  young 
again  in  the  boyish  admiration  which  it  will 
elicit  even  from  them."  —  Charleston  Cou 


takes 
lay 


"  Since  the  days  when  '  Robinson  Cru 
soe'  first  gave  pleasure  to  the  host  of 
readers,  young  and  old,  which  has  ever 
since  been  multiplying,  we  doubt  if  any 
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equally  strong  to  take  its  place  right 
squarely  up  to  it,  and  alongside.  The 
boys  will  all  run  to  get  it,  and  old  boys, 

Bul'wer's  Novels.     Library  Edition.    Complete  in 

forty-two  volumes.  Large  type.  I2mo.  Cloth,  $52.50 ;  Library, 
sheep,  $63;  half  calf,  neat,  $105;  half  calf,  gilt  extra,  $115.50. 
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. 

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up  this  fascinating  book,  will  scarcely 
it  down  till  finis  or  daylight  appears."  — 
Columbus  yournal. 


The  Caxtons. 2  vols. 

My  Novel 4  vols. 

What  will  He  do  with  It  ? .  .3  vols. 

Devereux. 2  vols. 

Last  Days  of  Pompeii...  .2  vols. 

Rienzi .2  vols. 

Leila,  Calderon I  vol. 

The  Last  of  the  Barons.  .2  vols. 

Harold 2  vols. 

Pilgrims  of  the  Rhine 1  vol. 

Eugene  Aram 2  vols. 

"  This  edition  is  in  every  way  a  desirable 
one  for  libraries ;  the  volumes  are  of  con 
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superior  quality,  and  the  binding  neat  and 
substantial."— Philada.  Inquirer.  ^ 

"  Its  convenient  form  makes  it  desirable 
for  use  in  traveling,  as  well  as  for  library 


Zanoni 2  vols. 

Pelham 2  vols. 

The  Disowned 2  vols. 

Paul  Clifford. 2  vols. 

Godolphin I  voL 

Ernest  Maltravers 2  vols. 

Alice 2  vols. 

Night  and  Morning 2  vols. 

Lucretia 2  vols. 

A  Strange  Story 2  vols. 


purposes.  .  .  .  Book-buyers  will  do  w«tt 
to  purchase  this  edition  'f6r  their  libraries. ' 
—Pittsburg  Gazette. 

"  Every  gentleman  who  desires  to  build 
up  a  complete  library  must'  have  this  edi 
tion  of  Bulwer."— Columbus  Journal. 


PUBLICATIONS  OF  J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  &•   CO. 


Beatrice.      A    Poem.      By   Hon.    Roden    Noel. 

Square  i6mo.    Tinted  paper.     Extra  cloth,  gilt  top,  $i. 


"  It  is  impossible  to  read  the  poem 
chrough  without  being  powerfully  moved. 
There  are  passages  in  it  which  for  in 
tensity  and  tenderness,  clear  and  vivid 
vision,  spontaneous  and  delicate  sympathy, 
may  be  compared  with  the  best  efforts  of 
our  best  living  writers."  —  London  Spec 


tator. 


"Mr.  Noel  has  a  fruitful  imagination, 
and  such  a  thorough  command  of  language 
as  to  link  the  heart  and  tongue  in  that 
union  from  which  only  true  poesy  is  born  " 
— N.  O.  Times. 

"  Mr.  Noel  has  no  rival.  He  sings. with 
fairy-like  and  subtle  power."—  London 
A  then&um. 


Breaking  a   Butterfly;  or,    Blanche    Ellerslie's 

Ending.  A  Novel.  By  the  author  of  "Guy  Livingstone,"  &c. 
Author's  Edition.  With  Illustrations.  I2mo.  Extra  cloth,  $1.50. 
Paper  cover,  50  cts. 

"  It  is  a  charming  story  of  English  life,  gifted  author's  most  captivating  vein." — 

and  marked  by  the  well-known  character-  Philada.  Age. 

•sties  of  the  author's  style,  in  which  the  "  It  is  a  story  which  every  one  will  find 

gorgeous  descriptions  of  manhood  are  pre-  interesting;  and  it  is  written  with  an  easy 

dominant." — Buffalo  Express.  grace  indicative  of  good  taste  and  large  ex- 

"It  is  intensely  interesting,  full  of  life  perience." — Albany  Journal. 
and  spirit,  and  throughout  is  written  in  the 


The  Voice  in  Singing.  From  the  German  of 
Emma  Seiler.  Third  edition.  I2mo.  Tinted  paper.  Extra 
cloth,  $1.50. 

"We  would  earnestly  advise  all  inter 
ested  in  any  way  in  the  vocal  organs  to 
read  and  thoroughly  digest  this  remarkable 
work." — Boston  Musical  Times. 

"  It  is  meeting  with  the  favor  of  all  our 
authorities,  and  is  a  very  valuable  work. 
To  any  one  engaged  in  teaching  cultivation 
of  the  voice,  or  making  singing  a  study,  it 
will  prove  an  efficient  assistant.  — Loomis' 
Musical  Journal. 


"This  remarkable  book  is  of  special 
interest  to  teachers  and  scholars  of  vocal 
music.  It  is,  however,  of  value  to  that 
much  larger  number  of  persons  who  love 
music  for  its  own  sake.  Here,  almost  for 
the  first  time  in  English,  and  certainly  for 
the  first  time  in  an  American  book,  we 
have  a  satisfactory  explanation  of  the  phy 
siology  and  aesthetics  of  the  art  divine." — 
Philada.  North  A  merican. 


Abraham    Page,    Esq.       Life    and    Opinions   of 

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"  It  is  really  refreshing,  in  these  days  of     of  a  gentleman,  and  the  grace  and  culture 
sensational  stuff,  to  fall  upon  a  book  like      of  a  scholar." — Baltimore  Leader. 
this,  written  with  the  easy,  well-bred  air 


What  I  Know  about  Ben  Eccles.    A  Novel.    By 

ABRAHAM  PAGE,  author  of  "  The  Life  and  Opinions  of  Abraham 
Page,  Esq."     I2mo.     Cloth,  $1.50. 


M  Quite  a  pathetic  story,  which,  without 


"  Quite  a  pathetic  story,  winch,  without      sational,  will  enchain  the  attention  to 
being  at  all  o^  the  kind  denominated  sen-      very  close." — Pittsburg  Ev.  Journal. 


sational,  will  enchain  the  attention  to  the 


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